CHAPTER VII
THE GIRL
Joe Matson bent over the unconscious girl, and, even in the excitementof the moment, out of breath as he was from his fast run, he could notbut note how pretty she was. Though now her cheeks that must usually bepink with the flush of health, were pale. She lay in a heap on thegrass, at the side of the overturned carriage, from which the horse hadpartly freed itself. The animal was now showing signs of recovering fromthe stunning blow of the stone.
"I've got to get her away from here," decided Joe. "If that brute startskicking around he may hurt her. I've got to pick her up and carry her.She doesn't look able to walk."
In his sturdy arms he picked up the unconscious girl, and carried hersome distance off, placing her on a grassy bank.
"Let's see--what do you do when a girl faints?" mused Joe, scratchinghis head in puzzled fashion. "Water--that's it--you have to sprinkle herface with water."
He looked about for some sign of a brook or spring, and, listening, hisear caught a musical trickle off to one side.
"Must be a stream over there," he decided. He glanced again at the girlbefore leaving her. She gave no sign of returning consciousness, and onehand, Joe noticed when he carried her, hung limp, as though the wristwas broken.
"And she's lucky to get off with that," decided the young pitcher. "Ihope I did the right thing by stopping the horse that way. She surewould have gone over the cliff if I hadn't."
The horse, from which had gone all desire to run farther, now struggledto its feet, and shook itself once or twice to adjust the harness. Itwas partly loose from it, and, with a plunge or two, soon wholly freeditself.
"Run away again if you want to now," exclaimed Joe, shaking his fist atthe brute. "You can't hurt anyone but yourself, anyhow. Jump over thecliff if you like!"
But the horse did not seem to care for any such performance now, and,after shaking himself again, began nibbling the grass as though nothinghad happened.
"All right," went on Joe, talking to the horse for companionship, sincethe neighborhood seemed deserted. "Stay there, old fellow. I may needyou to get to a doctor, or to some house. She may be badly hurt."
For want of something better Joe used the top of his cap in which tocarry the water which he found in a clear-running brook, not far fromwhere he had placed the girl.
The sprinkling of the first few drops of the cold liquid on her facecaused her to open her eyes. Consciousness came back quickly, and, witha start, she gazed up at Joe uncomprehendingly.
"You're all right," he said, reassuringly. "That is, I hope so. Do youthink you are hurt anywhere? Shall I get a doctor? Where do you live?"
Afterward he realized that his hurried questions had given her littlechance to speak, but he meant to make her feel that she would be takencare of.
"What--what happened?" she faltered.
"Your horse ran away," Joe explained, with a smile. "He's over therenow; not hurt, fortunately."
"Oh, I remember now! Something frightened Prince and he bolted. He neverdid it before. Oh, I was so frightened. I tried--tried to stop him, butcould not. The rein broke."
The girl sat up now, Joe's arm about her, supporting her, for she wasmuch in need of assistance, being weak and trembling.
"Then he bolted into a field," she resumed, "and he was headed fora cliff. Oh, how I tried to stop him! But he wouldn't. Then--thensomething--something happened!"
She looked wonderingly at Joe.
"Yes, I'm afraid _I_ happened it," he said with a smile. "I saw thatyour horse might go over the cliff, so I threw a stone, and hit him onthe head. It stunned him, he fell, and threw you out."
"I remember up to that point," she said with a faint smile. "I sawPrince go down, and I thought we were going over the cliff. Oh, what anescape!"
"And yet not altogether an escape," remarked Joe. "Your arm seems hurt."
She glanced down in some surprise at her right wrist, as though noticingit for the first time. Then, as she moved it ever so slightly, a cry ofpain escaped her lips.
"It--it's broken!" she faltered.
Joe took it tenderly in his hand.
"Only sprained, I think," he said, gravely. "It needs attention at once,though; I must get you a doctor. Can you walk?"
"I think so."
She struggled to her feet with his help, the red blood now surging intoher pale cheeks, and making her, Joe thought, more beautiful than ever.
"Be careful!" he exclaimed, as she swayed. His arm was about her, so shedid not fall.
"I--I guess I'm weaker than I thought," she murmured. "But it isn'tbecause I'm injured--except my wrist. I think it must be the shock. Why,there's Prince!" she added, as she saw the grazing horse. "He isn'thurt!"
"No, I only stunned him with the stone I threw," said Joe.
"Oh, and so you threw a stone at him, and stopped him?" She seemed insomewhat of a daze.
"Yes."
"What a splendid thrower you must be!" There was admiration in hertones.
"It's from playing ball," explained Joe, modestly. "I'm a pitcher on thePittston nine. We're training over at Montville."
"Oh," she murmured, understandingly.
"If I could get you some water to drink, it would make you feel better,"said Joe. "Then I might patch up the broken harness and get you home. Doyou live around here?"
"Yes, just outside of Goldsboro. Perhaps you could make a leaf answerfor a cup," she suggested. "I believe I would like a little water. Itwould do me good."
She moistened her dry lips with her tongue as Joe hastened back to thelittle brook. He managed to curl an oak leaf into a rude but clean cup,and brought back a little water. The girl sipped it gratefully, and theeffect was apparent at once. She was able to stand alone.
"Now to see if I can get that horse of yours hitched to the carriage,"spoke the young pitcher, "that is, if the carriage isn't broken."
"It's awfully kind of you, Mr.----" she paused suggestively.
"I'm Joe Matson, formerly of Yale," was our hero's answer, and, somehow,he felt not a little proud of that "Yale." After all, his universitytraining, incomplete though it had been, was not to be despised.
"Oh, a Yale man!" her eyes were beginning to sparkle now.
"But I gave it up to enter professional baseball," the young pitcherwent on. "It's my first attempt. If you do not feel able to get into thecarriage--provided it's in running shape--perhaps I could take you tosome house near here and send word to your folks," he suggested.
"Oh, I think I can ride--provided, as you say, the carriage is in shapeto use," she answered, quickly. "I am Miss Varley. It's awfully good ofyou to take so much trouble."
"Not at all," protested Joe. He noticed a shadow of pain pass over herface, and she clasped her sprained wrist in her left hand.
"That must hurt a lot, Miss Varley," spoke Joe with warm sympathy. "Iknow what a sprain is. I've had many a one. Let me wrap a cold, wet ragaround it. That will do until you can get to a doctor and have himreduce it."
Not waiting for permission Joe hurried back to the brook, and dipped hishandkerchief in the cold water. This he bound tightly around the alreadyswelling wrist, tying it skillfully, for he knew something about firstaid work--one needed to when one played ball for a living.
"That's better," she said, with a sigh of relief. "It's ever so muchbetter. Oh, I don't know what would have happened if you had not beenhere!"
"Probably someone else would have done as well," laughed Joe. "Now aboutthat carriage."
Prince looked up as the youth approached, and Joe saw a big bruise onthe animal's head.
"Too bad, old fellow, that I had to do that," spoke Joe, for he lovedanimals. "No other way, though. I had to stop you."
A look showed him that the horse was not otherwise injured by therunaway, and another look showed him that it would be impossible to usethe carriage. One of the wheels was broken.
"Here's a pickle!" cried Joe. "A whole bottle of 'em, for that matter. Ican't get her home that way
, and she can't very well walk. I can't carryher, either. I guess the only thing to do is to get her to the nearesthouse, and then go for help--or 'phone, if they have a wire. I'm in forthe day's adventure, I guess, but I can't leave her."
Not that he wanted to, for the more he was in the girl's presence, themore often he looked into her brown eyes, the more Joe felt that he wascaring very much for Miss Varley.
"Come, Matson!" he chided himself, "don't be an idiot!"
"Well?" she questioned, as he came back to her.
"The carriage is broken," he told her. "Do you think you could walk tothe nearest house?"
"Oh, I'm sure of it," she replied, and now she smiled, showing two rowsof white, even teeth. "I'm feeling ever so much better. But perhaps I amkeeping you," and she hung back.
"Not at all. I'm glad to be able to help you. I suppose I had better tieyour horse."
"Perhaps."
As Joe turned back to the grazing animal there was the sound of a motorcar out in the road. He and the girl turned quickly, the same thought inboth their minds. Then a look of pleased surprise came over MissVarley's face.
"Reggie! Reggie!" she called, waving her uninjured hand at a young manin the car. "Reggie, Prince bolted with me! Come over here!"
The machine was stopped with a screeching of brakes, and the youngfellow leaped out.
"Why, Mabel!" he cried, as he came sprinting across the field. "Are youhurt? What happened? Dad got anxious about you being gone so long, and Isaid I'd look you up in my car. Are you hurt, Mabel?"
Joe made a mental note that of all names he liked best that ofMabel--especially when the owner had brown eyes.
"Only a sprained wrist, Reggie. This gentleman hit Prince with a stoneand saved me from going over the cliff."
"Oh, he did!"
By this time the youth from the auto was beside Joe and the girl. Thetwo young men faced each other. Joe gave a gasp of surprise that wasechoed by the other, for the youth confronting our hero was none otherthan he who had accused Joe of robbing that odd valise.