"You've got all that off your mind now, and you ought to feel some better. The ponies don't seem to be hurt much. Some scraped, that's all. We can go on, I reckon. You ride my hawse, Mr. Cameron, and I'll sit in yere and drive. Won't trust these gals alone no more."
"I guess you could trust Ruth Fielding all right," cried the loyal Tom. "She did the trick—and showed how plucky she is in the bargain. Did you ever see anything better done than the way she threw that pony?"
Jane Ann ran to the girl of the Red Mill and flung her arms around her neck.
"You're just as brave as you can be, Ruthie!" she cried. "I don't know of anybody who is braver. If you'd been brought up right out here in the mountains you couldn't have done any better—could she, Jib?"
"Miss Fielding certainly showed good mettle," admitted the Indian, with one of his rare smiles. "And now we'll go on to the camping place. Don't let's have any more words about it, or your fun will all be spoiled. Where's Ricardo, with the camp stuff? I declare! that Greaser is five miles behind, I believe."
With which he clucked to the still nervous ponies and, Tom now in the lead, the procession started on in a much more leisurely style.
