land on only one foot, so that the shock is accompanied by a terrible
sidewise, downward wrench that breaks the hearts of the best riders in the
world. Grey Molly was educated, and Mrs. Pym stood in the doorway with a
broad grin of appreciation on her red face, she knew riding when she saw
it. Then, out of the full frenzy, the mare lapsed into high-headed,
quivering attention, and Gregg cursed her softly, with deep affection. He
understood her from her fetlocks to her teeth. She bucked like a fiend of
revolt one instant and cantered like an angel of grace the next; in fact
she was more or less of an equine counterpart of her rider.

But now he heard shrill voices passing down the street and he knew that
school was out and that he must hurry if he wanted to ride home with Betty,
so he waved to Mrs. Pym and cantered away. For over two days he had been
rushing towards this meeting; all winter he had hungered for it, but now
that the moment loomed before him he weakened; he usually did when he came
close to the girl. Not that her beauty overwhelmed him, for though she had
a portion of energetic good-health and freckled prettiness, he had chosen
her as an Indian chooses flint for his steel; one could strike fire from
Betty Neal. When he was far away he loved her without doubt or question and
his trust ran towards her like a river setting towards the ocean because he
knew that her heart was as big and as true as the heart of Grey Molly
herself. Only her ways were fickle, and when she came near, she filled him
with uneasiness, suspicion.



Chapter III. Battle

On the road he passed Miss Brewster--for the Alder school boasted two
teachers!--and under her kindly, rather faded smile he felt a great desire