Betty beat her hands together in excitement. "Never mind! Never mind!" she cried. "I can ride. I can ride any horse. I am not afraid of your Ida Bellethorne. And none of the boys or men is here. I'll go for the doctor."
"I don't know if it is best for you to," groaned Ida.
"Call Mrs. Candace." They were in the kitchen, and Ida ran to summon the farm woman while Betty got into her coat. Mrs. Candace came, hurrying.
"What is this I hear?" she demanded. "I couldn't let you ride that horse. You will be thrown or something."
"No I shan't, Mrs. Candace. I can ride. And Hunchie says the mare is sharpened."
"So she is. I had forgotten," the woman admitted thoughtfully.
"And the poor fellow suffers so. Some lasting harm may be done if we don't get a surgeon quickly. Where does Dr. Pevy live?" demanded Betty urgently.
The fact that the injured hostler was really in great pain and possibly in some danger, caused Mrs. Candace finally to agree to the girl's demand. Betty ran out with Ida to get the mare and saddle her. Betty was not dressed properly for such a venture as this; but she wore warm undergarments and stout shoes.
