Alas! she felicitated herself too soon.
They had not made half the distance to Ferndale, when at a sudden turn of the road some distance ahead, Molly saw a tall, manly figure coming toward her with the inevitable fiery tip of a cigar gleaming through the semi-darkness. At sight of this pedestrian the bay horse, which had been pacing easily and beautifully, uttered a loud whinny of delight, and changed his easy gait for a sudden gallop that took Molly by surprise, and, losing her balance in the saddle, the reins slipped from her hands. Another moment and our luckless heroine went flying over the head of her noble steed and landed ignobly on her face in the dust of the road.
The bay horse stopped perfectly still with wonderful equine intelligence and the pedestrian dropped his cigar and rushed to the rescue.
As he came upon the scene the animal again uttered a whinny of delight and poked his cold nose into the new-comer’s hand.
“What, Hero, old fellow, glad to see me back?” the gentleman said, with a hasty caress on the graceful head.
Then he stooped over the heap of huddled-up humanity in the road.
“What mischief have you done in your haste to bid me welcome?” he continued, lifting Molly’s dark head out of the dust.
A moment’s examination assured him that the fall had either stunned or killed her outright.
“This is dreadful; and whom can it be, anyhow, riding my mother’s favorite bay?”
While he spoke he was carrying her across the road to a little spring bubbling between the rocks and ferns.