Ida explained her connection with the black mare and with Hunchie.

“You’d better go in and talk to him.  Maybe it will case his pain.  But that shin bone is sticking right through the flesh of his leg.  It’s awful!  And he’s in terrible pain.  If Bill don’t come back soon——­”

“Isn’t there any man on the place?” asked Betty, interrupting.

“None but them with Bill hunting the young stock.”

“And the boys—­our friends—­have gone with them,” explained Betty.  “Somebody must get the surgeon.”

“How are we going to do it?  The telephone wires are down,” explained Mrs. Candace.  “And there ain’t a horse properly shod for traveling on this ice.  I fear some of that young stock will break their legs.”

“We saw them skating all over the road,” said Bobby.  “But how gay and excited they were!”

“A ridin’ horse would have to go at a foot pace,” explained Mrs. Candace, “unless it was sharpened.  I don’t know——­”

Ida had gone into the bedroom to speak with the injured man.  She looked out at this juncture and excitedly beckoned to Betty.  Betty ran in to find the crooked little man looking even more crooked and pitiful than ever under the blankets.  He was groaning and the perspiration stood on his forehead.  That he was in exceeding pain there could be no doubt.

“He says Ida Bellethorne is sharpened,” gasped Ida.

“Oh!  You mean she is fixed to travel on ice on frozen ground?”

“I ’ad to lead ’er up ’ere from the station, Miss.  Ain’t I saw you before, Miss?” said Hunchie, staring at Betty.  “At Mr. Bolter’s?”

“Yes, yes!” cried Betty.  “Can the mare travel on this hard snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I didn’t draw the calks for I exercised ’er each d’y, I did.  I didn’t want ‘er to fall.  An’ now I failed myself!”

The two girls looked at each other significantly.  Ida was easily led out of the room.  Betty put the question to her.

“That’s just it, Betty,” said the English girl, almost in tears.  “I never learned to ride.  I never did ride.  My nurse was afraid to let me learn when I was little, and although I love horses, I only know how to drive them.  It’s like a sailor never having learned to swim.”

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.