The girl from Rose Ranch seemed to reach the saddle in a single
spring. She was astride the snorting horse and her feet
instinctively sought the stirrups, as Prince leaped away in the
track of the grey pony.

The stirrup-leathers were longer than Rhoda was used to; for most
Western riders use a shorter leather than was the custom about
Lakeview Hall. But, almost standing erect as Prince thundered
across the athletic field, Rhoda seemed perfectly poised both in
body and mind. To see her, one would never suppose that it was
possible to fall out of a saddle.

The big black horse seemed to know just what was expected of him.
He scarcely needed guiding. The girl's hair snapped out behind her
in the wind; her set face, visible to a few of the spectators, gave
them confidence. She was no "butterfingers" now. She was going to
do what she had set out to do--no doubt of that!

She rode slightly stooping forward from the waist, with left hand
outstretched while Prince's reins were gathered loosely in her
right hand. The shrieking children were huddled right before the
grey pony. It did seem as though they could not possibly escape
being trampled upon.

But the stride of the big black horse was almost twice the length
of the pony's. And he answered the rein perfectly. Rhoda rode to
the right of the grey, stretched forward her long arm, and swerved
her own mount at the same moment.

A single jerk on the lines of the pony, dragging her sideways, and