"I've got to ride this way," she said; "cows have such funny backs I
couldn't keep on any other way. If I see any one coming, I'll slide for
it."

For a while all went well. Lark led Blinkie carefully, gazing about
anxiously to see that no one approached. Carol gained confidence as they
proceeded, and chatted with her sister nonchalantly, waving her hands
about to show her perfect balance and lack of fear. So they advanced to
within two blocks of the parsonage.

"It's very nice," said Carol, "very nice indeed,--but her backbone is
rather--well, rather penetrating. I think I need a saddle."

By this time, Blinkie concluded that she was being imposed upon. She
shook her head violently, and twitched the rope from Lark's hand,--for
Lark now shared her sister's confidence, and held it loosely. With a
little cry she tried to catch the end of it, but Blinkie was too quick
for her. She gave a scornful toss of her dainty head, and struck out
madly for home. With great presence of mind, Carol fell flat upon the
cow's neck, and hung on for dear life, while Lark, in terror, started out
in pursuit.

"Help! Help!" she cried loudly. "Papa! Papa! Papa!"

In this way, they turned in at the parsonage gate, which happily stood
open,--otherwise Blinkie would undoubtedly have gone through, or over.
As luck would have it, Mr. Starr was standing at the door with two men
who had been calling on him, and hearing Lark's frantic cries, they
rushed to meet the wild procession, and had the unique experience of