Hesba Stretton - The Ultimate Christmas Library - 100+ Authors, 200 Novels, Novellas, Stories, Poems and Carols

“Oh, Bess!”

“Oh, Nan!”

The chums had caught sight of the same thing at the same moment. Just ahead was a heavy sleigh, with plumes on the corner-posts, drawn by two big horses. They could not mistake the turnout. It belonged to the Graves’ family with whom Linda Riggs was staying.

The chums had not seen Linda since the evening of the party, when the railroad president’s daughter had acted in such an unladylike manner.

“I see the big pung,” laughed Walter. “And I bet Linda’s in it, all alone in her glory. Pearl told me she hated the thing; but that her grandmother considers it the only winter equipage fit to ride in. You ought to see the old chariot they go out in in summer.

“Hello,” he added. “Got to pull up here.”

A policeman on horseback had suddenly ridden into the middle of the driveway. Just ahead there was a crossing and along the side road came clanging a hospital ambulance, evidently on an emergency call.

The white-painted truck skidded around the corner, the doctor on the rear step, in his summerish looking white ducks, swinging far out to balance the weight of the car.

The pair of horses drawing the Graves’ sleigh, snorted, pulled aside and rose, pawing, on their hind legs. The coachman had not been ready for such a move and he was pitched out on his head.

The girls and Walter heard a shrill scream of terror. The footman left the sleigh in a hurry, too— jumping in a panic. Off the two frightened horses dashed— not up the boulevard, but along the side street.

“That’s Linda,” gasped Bess.

“And she’s alone,” added Nan.

“Say! she’s going to get all the grandeur she wants in a minute,” exclaimed Walter. “Why didn’t she jump, too, when she had the chance?”

He turned Prince into the track behind the swaying sleigh. The black horse seemed immediately to scent the chase. He snorted and increased his stride.

“Oh, Walter! Can you catch them?” Nan cried.

“I bet Prince can,” the boy replied, between his set teeth.

The policeman on horseback was of course ahead in the chase after the runaways. But the snow on this side road was softer than on the speedway, and it balled under his horse’s hoofs.

The black horse driven by Walter Mason was more sure-footed than the policeman’s mount. The latter slipped and lost its stride. Prince went past the floundering horse like a flash.

The swaying sleigh was just ahead now. Walter drew Prince to one side so that the cutter would clear the sleigh in passing.

The chums could see poor, frightened Linda crouching in the bottom of the sleigh, clinging with both hands to one of the straps from which the plumes streamed. Her face was white and she looked almost ready to faint.

The mounted policeman came thundering down the street after them, his horse having regained its footing. The reins of the big steeds were dragging on the ground, and Walter and his girl companions saw no way of getting hold of the lines and so pulling down the frightened horses.

There was another way to save Linda Riggs, however. Walter looked at Nan Sherwood and his lips moved.

“Are you afraid to drive Prince?” he asked.

“No,” declared Nan, and reached for the reins. She had held the black horse before. Besides, she had driven her Cousin Tom’s pair of big draught horses up in the Michigan woods, and Mr. Henry Sherwood’s half-wild roan ponies, as well. Her wrists were strong and supple, and she was alert.

Walter passed the lines over and then kicked the robe out of the way. Bess sat on the left side of the seat, clinging to the rail. She was frightened— but more for the girl in the other sleigh, than because of their own danger.

Walter Mason motioned to Bess to move over to Nan’s side. The latter was guiding Prince carefully, and the cutter crept up beside the bigger vehicle. Only a couple of feet separated the two sleighs as Walter leaned out from his own seat and shouted to Linda:

“Look this way! Look! Do exactly as I tell you!”

The girl turned her strained face toward him. The bigger sleigh swerved and almost collided with the cutter.

“Now!” yelled Walter, excitedly. “Let go!”

He had seized Linda by the arm, clinging with his other hand to the rail of the cutter-seat. She screamed— and so did Bess.

But Walter’s grasp was strong, and, after all, Linda was not heavy. Her hold was torn from the plume-staff, and she was half lifted, half dragged, into the cutter.

Prince darted past the now laboring runaways. One of the latter slipped on a smooth bit of ice and crashed to the roadway.

His mate went down with him and the sleigh was overturned. Had Linda not been rescued as she was, her injury— perhaps her death— would have been certain.

They stopped at the first drug store and a man held the head of the excited black horse while Walter soothed and blanketed him. Then the boy went inside, and into the prescription room, where Nan and Bess were comforting their schoolmate.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear! I’d have been killed if it hadn’t been for you, Walter Mason,” cried Linda, for once so thoroughly shaken out of her pose that she acted and spoke naturally. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

“Say!” blurted out Walter. “You’d better thank Nan, here, too. I couldn’t have grabbed you if it hadn’t been for her. She held Prince and guided the sleigh.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” interjected Nan, at once very much embarrassed. “Anybody would have done the same.”

“’Tisn’t so!” cried Bess. “I just held on and squealed.”

But Linda’s pride was quite broken down. She looked at Nan with her own eyes streaming.

“Oh, Sherwood!” she murmured. “I’ve said awfully mean things about you. I’m so sorry— I really am.”

“Oh, that’s all right!” muttered Nan, almost boyish in her confusion.

“Well, I have! I know I made fun of your medal for bravery. You deserve another for what you just did. Oh, dear! I— I never can thank any of you enough;” and she cried again on Bess Harley’s shoulder.

Walter telephoned to the Graves’ house, telling Linda’s aunt of the accident and of Linda’s predicament, and when a vehicle was sent for the hysterical girl the boy, with Nan and Bess, hurried home to a late luncheon, behind black Prince.

Although Mrs. Mason, naturally, was disturbed over the risk of accident Walter and the girl chums had taken in rescuing Linda Riggs, the interest of the young folks was in, and all their comment upon, the possible change of heart the purse-proud girl had undergone.

“I don’t know about these ‘last hour conversions,’” said the pessimistic Bess. “I should wring the tears out of the shoulder of my coat and bottle ’em. Only tears I ever heard of Linda’s shedding! And they may prove to be crocodile tears at that.”

“Oh, hush, Bess!” said Nan. “Let’s not be cruel.”

“We’ll see how she treats you hereafter,” Grace said. “I, for one, hope Linda has had a change of heart. She’ll be so much happier if she stops quarreling with everybody.”

“And the other girls will have a little more peace, too, I fancy; eh?” threw in her brother, slyly. “But how about this place you want to go to this afternoon, Nan?” he added.

“I should think you had had enough excitement for one day,” Mrs. Mason sighed. “The wonderful vitality of these young creatures! It amazes me. They wish to be on the go all of the time.”

“You see,” Nan explained, “we have only a few more days in Chicago and I am so desirous of finding Sallie and Celia. Poor Mrs. Morton is heart-broken, and I expect Celia’s mother fears all the time for her daughter’s safety, too.”