"Now, miss, you get up," said Roy to Helen. And in another instant she found herself astride a black, spirited horse. Numb with cold as she was, she yet felt the coursing thrills along her veins.
Roy was at the stirrups with swift hands.
"You're taller 'n I guessed," he said. "Stay up, but lift your foot.... Shore now, I'm glad you have them thick, soft boots. Mebbe we'll ride all over the White Mountains."
"Bo, do you hear that?" called Helen.
But Bo did not answer. She was leaning rather unnaturally in her saddle. Helen became anxious. Just then Dale strode back to them.
"All cinched up, Roy?"
"Jest ready," replied Roy.
Then Dale stood beside Helen. How tall he was! His wide shoulders seemed on a level with the pommel of her saddle. He put an affectionate hand on the horse.
"His name's Ranger an' he's the fastest an' finest horse in this country."
"I reckon he shore is--along with my bay," corroborated Roy.
"Roy, if you rode Ranger he'd beat your pet," said Dale. "We can start now. Roy, you drive the pack-horses."
He took another look at Helen's saddle and then moved to do likewise with Bo's.
"Are you--all right?" he asked, quickly.
Bo reeled in her seat.
"I'm n-near froze," she replied, in a faint voice. Her face shone white in the starlight. Helen recognized that Bo was more than cold.
"Oh, Bo!" she called, in distress.
"Nell, don't you worry, now."
"Let me carry you," suggested Dale.
"No. I'll s-s-stick on this horse or d-die," fiercely retorted Bo.
The two men looked up at her white face and then at each other. Then Roy walked away toward the dark bunch of horses off the road and Dale swung astride the one horse left.
"Keep close to me," he said.
Bo fell in line and Helen brought up the rear.
Helen imagined she was near the end of a dream. Presently she would awaken with a start and see the pale walls of her little room at home, and hear the cherry branches brushing her window, and the old clarion-voiced cock proclaim the hour of dawn.