A Dixie School Girl Part 5

"Fergot?" queried Jefferson, looking from one animal to the other. "Ah cyant see nothin' I'se done fergot, Miss Ste'son. What it look lak ain't on de hawses, ma'am?"

"Why their eyes seem so prominent. They seem to _see_ too much, er--"

Beverly was attacked with a sudden paroxysm of coughing. Jefferson nearly disgraced himself, but managed to stammer:

"We doesn't ingen'ally put blinders on de saddle hawses, Miss, but ef yer says so I'll tak 'em long back ter de stables an' change de saddle headstalls fer de _kerridge_ ones, tho' it sure would look mighty cur'ous."

"No! No! Certainly not. It was merely a remark in pa.s.sing. You are the better judge of the requirements I dare say," and Miss Stetson beat a hasty retreat, entirely forgetting to warn her charges against venturing beyond bounds.

Could she have seen Beverly's lips set she might have grown suspicious.

The riding party started, Jefferson muttering:

"Ma Lawd! dat 'oman suah do make me tired. Blinders on ma saddle hawses!

Huh! '_Mr_. Jefferson'. Reckon I bettah tek ter callin' her Sis'

Angeline," Angeline being Miss Stetson's christian name.

When the grounds of the school were left a few miles behind her Beverly drew up to Sally's side and said significantly:

"She did not tell us to keep within bounds."

"She forgot to. She was too busy missing the blinders," laughed Sally.

Beverly laughed softly and continued:

"You girls hold in your horses when we've gone a little further. I want to ride on ahead with Jefferson. I've a word to say and I've an idea he is in a receptive mood."

"What are you up to, Bev?" asked Aileen.

"Just watch out. We'll take a new route today unless I'm much mistaken,"

and touching Apache lightly with her heel she cavorted to Jefferson's side. He had been too absorbed in his thoughts of Miss Stetson to leave room for any others: Your darkie is not unlike a horse in that respect; his brain is rarely capable of holding _two_ ideas at once. Perhaps that explains why darkies and horses are usually in such accord.

As Apache careened against Jumbo's side the big horse gave a plunge forward which jerked Jefferson's wits back to his surroundings. That was exactly what Beverly wished.

"Lor' Miss Bev'ly, you done scare Jumbo an' me foolish," he exclaimed, striving to bring Jumbo down to his usual easy pace, for the tall hack had resented the little broncho's familiarity, though he could not know that his own grandsire and Apache's were the same.

"Jefferson, will you do something to please me this afternoon?" she asked eagerly.

"I sh.o.r.e will if it aint gwine ter get me into no fuss wid de Misses,"

temporized Jefferson.

"It won't get you into any fuss with anybody. Miss Woodhull is not at home and Miss Stetson was too busy trying to find out where the horses had lost their blinders to tell us _not_ to take the road to Kilton Hall."

Jefferson almost chortled.

"So, when we come to that road will you turn down it and leave the rest to me? And don't be surprised or frightened at anything Apache may do."

"I aint scared none at what you an' dat hawse doin'. He's got sense and--" added Jefferson with concession--"so has you. I aint got no time ter be a troublin' 'bout you-all. It's dese yo'ng ladies I has ter bat my eyes at; an' dey sh.o.r.e do keep me busy sometimes. Now what I tell you?

Look at dat?" and as though in sympathy with Beverly's schemes, Chicadee, the little mare Petty g.a.y.l.o.r.d was riding chose that moment to shy at some leaves which fluttered to the ground and, of course, Petty shrieked, and then followed up the shriek with the "tee-hee-hee," which punctuated every tenth word she spoke whether apropos or not.

That was exactly the cue Beverly needed. A slight pressure of her knee upon Apache's side was sufficient. He was off like a comet, and to all intents and purposes entirely beyond his rider's control.

Sally and Aileen laughed outright. Petty stopped her giggle to scream: "Oh, she's being run away with!"

"Not so much as it would seem," was Hope MacLeod's quiet comment as she laid in place a lock of Satin Gloss's mane, and quieted him after his sympathetic plunge.

"Well ef she is, she _is_, but I'm bettin' she knows whar she a-runnin'

_at_," said Andrew Jackson Jefferson more quietly than the situation seemed to warrant. "But just de same I'm thinkin' we might as well fool oursefs some," and he hastened his pace, the others doing likewise. It would never do to let one of his charges be run away with and not make an effort to save her from a possible calamity.

CHAPTER VIII

CLIMAXES

Meanwhile the runaways were having the very time of their lives. Not since that two-mile race to Four Corners for the letter which proved the wedge to divide her own and Athol's ways, had Beverly been able to "let out a notch," as she put it. Nor had the little broncho been permitted to twinkle his legs as they were now twinkling over that soft dirt road.

Virginia roads were made for equestrians, _not_ automobiles. Head thrust forward as far as his graceful slender neck permitted, ears laid back for the first unwelcome word to halt, eyes flashing with exhilaration, and nostrils wide for the deep, full inhalations and exhalations which sent the rich blood coursing through each pulsing artery, little Apache was enjoying his freedom as much as his rider. In two seconds they were at the top of a rise of ground, down at the further side and out of sight of the others. Then, to make the exhibition realistic, Beverly drew out her hat pin, gave it a toss to the side of the road, and the wind completed the job by whisking her soft felt hat off her head and landing it upon the roadside bush.

Oh, it was glorious! Five miles? What were five miles to the little beastie which had many a time pounded off twenty-five without turning a hair? Or to Beverly who had often ridden fifty in one day with Uncle Athol and her brother? Just a breather. And when there swept through the gateway of Kilton Hall a most exalted, hatless, rosy-cheeked, dancing-eyed la.s.sie mounted upon a most hilarious steed, the gate-keeper came within an ace of having apoplexy, for she was a portly old body.

But Beverly did not pause for explanations. Her objective point was the athletic field at the rear of the building and her appearance upon it might have been regarded in the light of a distinct sensation. It would never do to forsake too promptly the role of being run away with. There were coaches and referees upon tennis court, cinder path and football field, and boys galore, in every sort of athletic garb, performing every sort of athletic stunt.

When Beverly set out to do anything she rarely omitted any detail to make it as near perfect as possible. As she tore across the lawn which led to the field her sharp eyes discovered Athol upon one of the tennis courts and closer at hand a lot of other boys sprinting, gracefully or otherwise, around the cinder path, taking hurdles placed about a hundred feet apart.

Now, if there was one thing in this world upon which Apache and his young mistress agreed more entirely than another, it was the pure delight of skimming over a fence. A five-footer was a mere trifle. The three-foot hurdles upon the cinder path a big joke. The tennis nets? Pouf!

If Beverly really was tugging upon Apache's bridle he was not permitting anything so trivial as a girl's strength to bother him, and her knees told him quite a different story as he swept upon the cinder path, took two hurdles like a deer and was off over the tennis courts and over a net before the astonished players could draw a full breath.

Then they woke up!

"It's a runaway!" cried Mr. Cushman, who had charge of the football coaching, to be echoed by the tall quarter back in football togs, as both broke away in pursuit, the whole field quickly taking the alarm also. But that tennis court held one individual whose wits worked as quickly as the star performer's, and there and then shrilled across it a high-pitched, peculiar whistle which they both knew mighty well, and the four-legged one obeyed instanter by wheeling so suddenly that he put a very realistic climax upon the scene by nearly unseating the two-legged one, as he tore pell mell for the whistler and came to a sudden halt in front of him, to the increased astonishment of the general audience.

"Gee whiz, Bev! What's let loose?" cried Athol, trying to respond to Apache's nozzling, whinnying demonstrations of delight and reach his sister's extended hands at the same time, while Archie did his record-breaking sprint across the gridiron, and the whole field came boiling toward them.

"_I_ have. Don't you see I've been run away with? It's lucky Apache turned in here," answered Beverly, with remarkable calmness for one so lately escaped from disaster or sudden death, as she brushed back her flying locks, for--well--reasons.

"Run away nothing! _You_ run away with! Piffle. Ah, cut it out Apache! I know you're ready to throw a fit at seeing me, but keep bottled up for a minute, won't you?" he ended as Apache lay hold of his tennis shirt and tried to jerk him into attention. But he gave the bony little head a good-natured mauling nevertheless, as Archie rushing up exclaimed:

"You're a winner, Bev!" Then the others surrounded them, the two coaches really concerned lest the young lady had suffered some mishap, and Mr.

Cushman brushing the boys aside as he asked:

"Are you faint? Can we be of any a.s.sistance?" and Mr. Ford, the new instructor from Yale and mighty good to look upon (so decided Beverly in the s.p.a.ce of one glance) pressed to her side to ask: "Were you riding alone when your mount bolted?"

Before Beverly could draw breath to reply the answer came from another quarter.

Now there is no such accomplished actor, (or liar) upon the face of the round world as your genuine darkey. Indeed he can do both so perfectly that he actually lives in the characters he temporarily creates and believes his own prevarications, and that, it must be admitted, is _some achievement_.

When Beverly departed so suddenly upon her self-elected route, Jefferson naturally had but a very hazy idea of her intentions. He knew Kilton Hall lay over five miles straight ahead, and he knew, also that Beverly's brother was at school there, but Jefferson did not possess an a.n.a.lytical mind: It could not out-run Apache. He knew, however, that he must put up a pretty good bluff if he wished to save his kinky scalp upon his return to Leslie Manor, so he set about planning to "hand out dat fool 'oman a corker." Moreover, Petty was inclined to take the situation seriously.