She turned toward the house and ran a few steps only to come flying back.

“I have thought of something—­you must go after him!  That’s what you must do!  He may be wounded.  He may need you to help him.  Surely you could fight if you tried.  I could, myself!  And you will try, dear, I know you will, for my sake.  Come!  Run!  Run!  Let’s go to the stable and get the pony.  He goes fast.”

Her passionate excitement swept them along, and she and the boy were now running toward the stable, hand in hand, hardly knowing what they did.  Her head was bare, her white dress and her delicate slippers were very thin, and the chill of the autumnal night was already coming on.  But she thought of none of these things, felt none of them, and did not stop at the door of the stable, although she had never entered it before, and it was now very dark within.  But there was nothing for her to fear, she knew all about the horses, as every girl of the country did, since riding was a part of the life of the wilderness.  Keeping close to David’s side, she followed him to the pony’s stall, and when she heard him take down the saddle and bridle that hung overhead, her hands eagerly went out in the darkness to help him buckle the girth.

“There!  You will ride as fast as you can—­I know you will.  And you will help him fight.  Make haste.  Why didn’t we think to get your rifle?  Oh, why!  You are very slow.  There!  Isn’t it ready?”

But as the boy started to lead the pony from the stable, a sudden thought flashed through her mind, and she acted upon it as quickly as she grasped it.

“Let me have the pony,” she gasped.  “You can get one of the other horses for yourself.  Make haste!  I must have the pony because he is all ready.  Hurry!  Hurry!  I have just thought—­uncle Philip will help us.  He can do anything.  He will do anything in the world for me if I can only reach him.  He is nearly always coming to Cedar House about this time.  I am going to meet him.  Everything will be safe and right if I can find him and tell him.  Help me up to the saddle, quick! quick!”

They were now out of the stable and could see each other dimly.  He exclaimed in affright, grasping her skirt and holding her back when she attempted to mount.

“It’s my saddle, too, you couldn’t ride that!” he cried.

“What difference does the saddle make?  I have ridden it many a time—­and many a time without any.  If you will not—­”

She caught the pommel, and he, seeing how utterly useless it was to contend further, now held out his hand and she set her foot in his palm.  With a leap and a swift, lithe turn of one knee under the other she was seated in his saddle as easily and firmly as if it had been her own, and grasped the reins.

“Follow as quickly as you can,” she called back over her shoulder.  “I am going to meet uncle Philip in the buffalo path beyond Anvil Rock.”

And then the pony sprang away and was running into the falling night.