The gray horse was struggling and snorting; he was likely to tumble
sideways at any moment. If he did, and Betty was caught under him----

But she was not caught in any such crushing pressure. It was Bob's arm
around her waist that squeezed her. She had kicked her feet loose of the
stirrups, and now Bob, throwing himself backward, tore her out of the
saddle. He fell upon his back, and Betty, struggling and laughing and
almost crying, fell on top of him.

"All right, Betty! All right!" gasped Bob. "No need to squeal now."

"Who's squealing?" she demanded. "Let me up, do! Are you hurt, Bob?"

"Only the wind knocked out of me. Woof! You all right?"

"Oh, my dear!" shrieked Bobby at the top of the bank. "Are you killed,
Betty?"

"Only half killed," gasped Betty. "Don't worry. Spread the news. Elizabeth
Gordon, Miss Sharpe's prize Latin scholar, will yet return to Shadyside
to make glad the heart of----"

"She's all right," broke in Tommy Tucker, having dismounted and looking
over the brink of the bank. "She's trying to be funny. Her neck isn't
broken."

"I declare, Tommy!" cried Louise Littell admonishingly, "you sound as
though you rather thought her poor little neck ought to be dislocated."

"Cheese!" gasped Teddy, Tommy's twin. "You got that word out of a book,