grey is a tricky one. You can tell that. See how her eyes roll."

"Do you think the pony will bite?" asked Lillie Nevins, Grace's
chum, who overheard the girl from Rose Ranch.

"Goodness! I should hope so. She's got teeth," laughed Rhoda. "But
I mean that probably she is skittish--will shy at the least little
thing. And perhaps she will run away if she gets the chance."

"Then I shouldn't think Walter would leave them there alone beside
the road," Nan said thoughtfully.

"Reckon he trusts that black horse to stand. He's looped the reins
of the grey over the pommel of his own saddle. And that's not a
smart trick," added Rhoda.

"Why don't you get a horse and ride with them, Rhoda?" asked Bess
Harley. "I guess you just ache to get on that pony?"

"What! Side-saddle?" gasped the girl from Rose Ranch. "I wouldn't
risk my neck that way."

Suddenly somebody batted a determined tennis ball from far down the
nearest court. It whizzed over the back stop, and--bang!--hit the
grey pony on the nose.

Rhoda had not been a bad prophet. The pony with the rolling eye
leaped and snorted, all four feet in the air at once, and just as
crazy in an instant as ever a horse could be.