"Look out
for the icy places, Betsey," he warned her. "None of these horses are
sharpened. They never have ice enough down here in Virginia to worry
about, so they say."
Which was true enough on ordinary occasions. But the frost the night
before had been a hard one and the air was still tingling with it. In the
shady places the pools remained skimmed over. A gallop over the fields and
through the woodland paths put both the horses and riders in a glow of
excitement.
Perhaps Betty was a little careless--at least too confident. Her gray got
the lead and sped away across some rough ground which bordered a ravine.
Bob shouted again for her to be careful, and Betty turned and waved her
hand reassuringly to him.
It was just then that Jim slipped on the edge of the bank. Both of his
front feet slid on an icy patch and he almost came to his knees. Betty
saved herself from going over his head by a skillful lunge backward,
pulling sharply on the reins.
But the horse did not so easily regain his foot-hold. The edge of the bank
crumbled. Betty did not utter a sound, but the girls behind her screamed
in unison.
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