swerving again, the nearer pony stepped upon a trailing trace and
ingloriously ended their career by rolling himself and his companion in
the dust at the very feet of the peacefully plodding team.

Equally harmless and inglorious was the catastrophe of Susy and her
friend. The strong, elastic stalks of the tall grain broke their fall
and enabled them to scramble to their feet, dusty, disheveled, but
unhurt, and even unstunned by the shock. Their first instinctive cries
over a damaged hat or ripped skirt were followed by the quick reaction
of childish laughter. They were alone; the very defection of Pedro
consoled them, in its absence of any witness to their disaster; even
their previous slight attitude to each other was forgotten. They groped
their way, pushing and panting, to the road again, where, beholding
the overset buggy with its wheels ludicrously in the air, they suddenly
seized and shook each other, and in an outburst of hilarious ecstasy,
fairly laughed until the tears came into their eyes.

Then there was a breathless silence.

"The stage will be coming by in a moment," composedly said Susy. "Fix
me, dear."

Mary Rogers calmly walked around her friend, bestowing a practical
shake there, a pluck here, completely retying one bow and restoring an
engaging fullness to another, yet critically examining, with her head on
one side, the fascinating result. Then Susy performed the same function
for Mary with equal deliberation and deftness. Suddenly Mary started and
looked up.

"It's coming," she said quickly, "and they've SEEN US."