CHAPTER IV
AT THE CROSSING
THE country hotel supper was no better than the average of its kind,but to Betty, to whom any sort of change was "fun," it was delicious.She and Uncle Dick became better acquainted over the simple meal in thepleasant dining room than they could ever have hoped to have been withMrs. Arnold and the two boys present, and it was not until her dessertwas placed before her that Betty remembered her friend.
"Mrs. Arnold will think we're lost!" she exclaimed guiltily. "I meantto telephone! And oh, Uncle Dick, she does hate to keep supper waiting."
Uncle Dick smiled.
"I telephoned the neighbor you told me about," he said reassuringly."She said she would send one of her children right over with themessage. That was while you were upstairs. So I imagine Mrs. Arnold hasGeorge and Ted hard at work drying the dishes by this time."
"They don't dry the dishes, 'cause they're boys," explained Bettydimpling. "In Pineville, the men and boys never think of helping withthe housework. Mother said once that was one reason she fell in lovewith daddy--because he came out and helped her to do a pile of dishesone awfully hot Sunday afternoon."
After supper Betty and her uncle walked about Harburton a bit, andBetty glanced into the shop windows. She knew that probably her newdresses, at least the material for them, would be bought here, and shewas counting more on the new frocks than even Uncle Dick knew.
When they went back to the hotel it was still light, but the horse wasordered brought around, for they did not want to hurry on the drivehome.
"I guess I missed not belonging to any body," she said shyly, after along silence.
Uncle Dick glanced down at her understandingly.
"I've had that feeling, too," he confessed. "We all need a sense ofkinship, I think, Betty. Or a home. I haven't had either for years. Nowyou and I will make it up to each other, my girl."
The darkness closed in on them, and Uncle Dick got out and lit the twolamps on the dashboard and the little red danger light behind. Once ortwice a big automobile came glaring out of the road ahead and sweptpast them with a roar and a rush, but the easy going horse refused tochange its steady trot. But presently, without warning, it stopped.
Uncle Dick slapped the reins smartly, with no result.
"He balks," said Betty apologetically. "I know this horse. The liverystable man says he never balks on the way home, but I suppose he was sogood all the afternoon he just has to act up now."
"Balks!" exploded Uncle Dick. "Why, no stable should send out a horsewith that habit. Is there any special treatment he favors, Betty?" headded ironically.
Betty considered.
"Whipping him only makes him worse, they say," she answered. "He putshis ears back and kicks. Once he kicked a buggy to pieces. I guesswe'll have to get out and coax him, Uncle Dick."
Mr. Gordon snorted, but he climbed down and went to the horse's head.
"You stay where you are, Betty," he commanded. "I'm not going to haveyou dancing all over this dark road and likely to be run down by a carany minute simply to cater to the whim of a fool horse. You hold thereins and if he once starts don't stop him; I'll catch the step as itgoes by."
Betty held the reins tensely and waited. There was no moon, and cloudshid whatever light they might have gained from the stars. It wasdistinctly eery to be out on the dark road, miles from any house,with no noise save the incessant low hum of the summer insects. Bettyshivered slightly.
She could hear her uncle talking in a low tone to the dejected,drooping, stubborn bay horse, and she could see the dim outline of hisfigure. The rays of the buggy lamps showed her a tiny patch of thewheels and road, but that was every bit she could see.
Up over the slight rise of ground before them shone a glare, followedin a second by the headlights of a large touring car. Abreast of thebuggy it stopped.
"Tire trouble?" asked some one with a hint of laughter in the deepstrong voice.
"No, head trouble," retorted Mr. Gordon, stepping over to the driver ofthe car. "Balky horse."
"You don't say!" The motorist seemed surprised and interested. "I'dgive you a tow if you were going my way. But, do you know, my son whoruns a farm for me has a way of fixing a horse like that. He says it'sall mental. Beating 'em is a waste of time. Jim unharnesses a horsethat balks with him, leads it on a way and then rolls the wagon up andgears up again. Horse thinks he's starting all over--new trip, yousee. What's the word I want?"
"Psychological?" said the sweet, clear voice of Betty promptly.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" the motorist swept off his cap. "Thank you,whoever you are. That's what I wanted to say. Yes, nowadays theybelieve in reasoning with a horse. I'll help you unhitch if you say so."
"Let me," pleaded Betty. "Please, Uncle Dick. I know quite a lot aboutunharnessing. Can't I get out and do one side?"
The motorist was already out of his car, and at her uncle's brief "allright," Betty slipped down and ran to the traces. The stranger observedher curiously.
"Thought you were older," he said genially. "Where did a little tykelike you get hold of such a long word?"
"I read it," replied Betty proudly. "They use it in the Ladies' Aidwhen they want to raise more money than usual and they hate to askfor it. Mrs. Banker says there's a psychological moment to ask forcontributions, and I have to copy the secretary's notes for her."
"I see," said the stranger. "There! Now, Mr. Heady here is free, andwe'll lead him up the road a way."
Uncle Dick led the horse, who went willingly enough, and Betty and thekind friend-in-need, as she called him to herself, each took a shaft ofthe light buggy and pulled it after them. To their surprise, when thehorse was again harnessed to the wagon it started at the word "gid-ap,"and gave every evidence of a determination to do as all good horsesdo--whatever they are ordered.
"Guess he's all right," said the motorist, holding out his hand to Mr.Gordon. "Now, don't thank me--only ordinary road courtesy, I assureyou. Hope your troubles are over for the night."
The two men exchanged cards, and, lifting his hat to Betty, though hecouldn't see her in the buggy, the stranger went back to his car.
"Wasn't he nice?" chattered Betty, as the horse trotted briskly. UncleDick grimly resolved to make it pay for the lost time. "We might havebeen stuck all night."
"Every indication of it," admitted Mr. Gordon. "However, I'm glad tosay that I've always found travelers willing to go to any trouble tohelp. Don't ever leave a person in trouble on the road if you can doone thing to aid him, Betty. I want you to remember that."
Betty promised, a bit sleepily, for the motion and the soft, night airwere making her drowsy. She sat up, however, when they came in sight ofthe winking red and green lights that showed the railroad crossing.
"No gateman, is there?" inquired her uncle. "Well, I'll go ahead andlook, and you be ready to drive across when I whistle."
He climbed down and ran forward, and Betty sat quietly, the reins heldready in her hand. In a few moments she heard her signal, a clear,sharp whistle. She spoke to the horse, who moved on at an irritatinglyslow pace.
"For goodness sake!" said Betty aloud, "can't you hurry?"
She peered ahead, trying to make out her uncle's figure, but the heavypine trees that grew on either side of the road threw shadows too deepfor anything to be plainly outlined. Betty, nervously on the lookout,scarcely knew when they reached the double track, but she realized herposition with a sickening heart thump when the horse stopped suddenly.The bay had chosen the grade crossing as a suitable place to enjoy asecond fit of balkiness.
"Uncle Dick!" cried Betty in terror. "Uncle Dick, he's stopped again!Come and help me unhitch!"
No one answered.
Betty had nerves as strong and as much presence of mind as any girlof her age, but a woman grown might consider that she had cause forhysterics if she found herself late at night marooned in the middle ofa railroad track with a balky horse and no one near to give her evena word of advice. For a moment Betty rath
er lost her head and screamedfor her uncle. This passed quickly though, and she became calmer. Thewhip she knew was useless. So was coaxing. There was nothing to do withany certainty of success but to unharness the horse and lead her over.But where was Uncle Dick?
Betty jumped down from the buggy and ran ahead into the darkness,calling.
"Uncle Dick!" shouted Betty. "Uncle Dick, where are you?"
The cheery little hum of the insects filled the silence as soon asher voice died away. There was no other sound. Common sense coming toher aid, Betty reasoned that her uncle would not have gone far fromthe crossing, and she soon began to retrace her steps, calling atintervals. As she came back to the twinkling red and green lights, sheheard a noise that brought her heart into her throat. Some one hadgroaned!
"He's hurt!" she thought instantly.
The groan was repeated, and, listening carefully, Betty detected thatit came from the other side of the road. A few rods away from theflagman's house was a pit that had recently been excavated for somepurpose and then abandoned. Betty peered down into this.
"Uncle Dick?" she said softly.
Another deep groan answered her.
Betty ran back to the buggy and managed to twist one of the lamps fromthe dashboard. She was back in a second, and carefully climbed downinto the pit. Sure enough, huddled in a deplorable heap, one foottwisted under him, lay Mr. Gordon.
Betty had had little experience with accidents, but she instinctivelytook his head in her lap and loosened his collar. He was unconscious,but when she moved him he groaned again heart-breakingly.
"How shall I ever get him up to the road?" wondered Betty, wishing sheknew something of first-aid treatment. "If I could drag him up and thengo and get the horse and buggy----"
Her pulse gave an astounding leap and her brown eyes dilated. Puttingher uncle's head back gently on the gravel, she scrambled to herfeet, feeling only that whatever she did she must not waste time inscreaming. She had heard the whistle of a train!