MRS. PRESTON, Miss Jenny Ann and Miss Betsey, in the old phaeton, plodded on ahead of the young people to show them the route to the old sulphur springs. They passed by a number of beautiful Virginia farms and old homesteads along the shady roads. Miss Betsey was deeply interested in the history of the neighborhood, and in the old families that had lived in this vicinity since the close of the Civil War. Mrs. Preston liked nothing better than to relate that history to her New England guest.

To tell the truth, Miss Betsey Taylor was far more clever than any one might have supposed. She remembered very well that the friend of her youth, Mr. John Randolph, had come from somewhere near Culpepper, Virginia. Nor was she by any means unwilling to know what had become of him after he had disappeared from her horizon. But Miss Taylor did not intend to ask her hostess any direct questions if she could be persuaded to relate the story of this John Randolph in the natural course of her conversation. It may be that Miss Betsey had even been influenced in her desire to spend some time on the Preston estate by this same thirst for information in regard to the friend who had certainly lived not far from this very neighborhood.

"Whose place is that over there?" inquired Miss Jenny Ann unexpectedly, pointing to an old brick house overgrown with ivy.

Mrs. Preston flicked her horse. "It belongs to the Grinsteads. They are descendants of the Randolphs, who used to live in these parts."

Miss Betsey's eyelids never quivered. "The Randolphs?" she inquired casually. "What Randolphs?"

"James and John were the heads of the family in my day, but they have both—— Dear me! are the young people following us? We must hurry along," returned Mrs. Preston absently.

Miss Jenny Ann looked out of the phaeton. She reported that she could see Madge and Phil, who were riding side by side, leading the horseback cavalcade.

Miss Betsey's side curls bobbed impatiently, but she decided to ask no more questions of her hostess just at present.

Behind Madge and Phil, Lillian and Jack Bolling were riding companions, and Eleanor and Harry Sears brought up the rear. The four front riders kept close together, but every now and then Harry and Eleanor would lag behind until they were almost out of sight of the other riders.

Madge did not like Harry Sears. He was not always straightforward, and he was not kind to those who were less fortunate than himself. It may be that the little captain's dislike was due to the fact that Harry was always particularly rude to David and never failed to try to make the boy feel his inferior position. She did not believe, as Harry did, that because he was well off and well-born he had the privilege of being impolite to poorer and less aristocratic people. So Madge could not imagine how Eleanor could like Harry Sears. She did not know that Harry showed only his best side to Eleanor.

"I do wish Nellie would keep up with us, Phil!" she exclaimed a little impatiently. "I am afraid she and Harry may get lost if they keep on loitering; they don't know which roads to take." Phil looked back anxiously over the road. At some distance down the lane Harry and Eleanor were riding slowly, deep in conversation.

"I think I will ride back and ask Nellie to hurry," proposed Madge, turning her horse and cantering back to her cousin.

"Hurry along, Eleanor," she said rather crossly. "It is ever so much nicer for us to keep together."

Eleanor laughed. "Don't worry about me, Madge. I am not going to fall off my horse and we can catch up with you at any time we wish. I don't wish to ride fast. Harry and I are talking and I like to look at the scenery along the road."

Madge's face flushed. Eleanor was generally easy to influence, but once she made up her mind to a thing she was quietly stubborn and unyielding.

"All right, Nellie," Madge shrugged her shoulders eloquently, "but if you and Harry are lost, don't expect us to come back to hunt for you. Mrs. Preston particularly asked us to keep her in sight, as the roads about here are confusing. I am sure I beg your pardon for intruding." Madge touched her horse with the tip of her riding whip and cantered back to Phil's side, her cheeks scarlet, her eyes snapping. Hereafter Eleanor could go her own way. Madge had heard Harry Sears chuckle derisively as she turned away and it made her very angry.

Eleanor gazed after Madge's horse a little regretfully; not that she intended doing what her cousin had asked of her, but she was sorry that Madge had become so cross over nothing.

"I tell you, Miss Eleanor," Harry Sears continued when Madge was out of hearing, "I don't trust that fellow Brewster. I know we are going to have trouble with him before this holiday is over. I want to warn you, because I know you don't like the fellow either. Tom Curtis won't hear a word against him. But I know Brewster is up to some mischief when he goes off for hours and stays by himself. I have pretty well made up my mind to follow him some day to find out what he does."

Eleanor shook her gentle, brown head. "I don't think I would spy on him, Harry," she protested. "I don't like David, because he is so rough and rude, but I don't think he is positively bad."

"Oh, it wouldn't be spying," argued Harry. "If I think the fellow is going to get us in trouble, I believe it is my duty to keep a close watch on him."

"He'll be awfully angry," sighed Eleanor.

Harry made no answer, but merely smiled contemptuously.

Eleanor's horse was ambling down a road that was cut along the foot of a tall hill. On the other side there was a steep declivity that dropped nearly twenty feet to the ground. A low rail fence separated the embankment from the road, which was rough and narrow.All of a sudden Eleanor's horse began to shy off to one side of the road. The more Eleanor pulled on her left rein, the more her horse moved toward the right; and on the right side of the road was the precipice.

One of her horse's forefeet went down beneath the level of the road. Eleanor tried to rein in, but she felt herself sliding backward over the right side of her horse.

"Harry!" she cried desperately. Harry Sears turned in amazement. He was not in time. Eleanor rolled off her horse. In falling she struck her back on the rail fence. But the fence saved her life. She tumbled forward toward the road, instead of rolling down the steep embankment.

Harry was off his horse in a moment. Eleanor was huddled on the ground, her face white with pain. She had fallen off her horse, though the animal had not tried to run away. It had stumbled back into the road and stood waiting to know what had happened.

"Your saddle girth broke, Eleanor," explained Harry. "Are you much hurt?"

"No-o-o," replied Eleanor bravely, with her lips trembling. "I believe I have bruised my shoulder, but it isn't very bad."

Harry had Eleanor on her feet, but he could see that she was suffering intensely. He did not know what to do. The rest of the riding party was well out of sight. He did not like to leave Eleanor alone while he galloped after them; yet he did not believe that she would be able to ride on.

"Can you fix my saddle girth, Harry?" questioned Eleanor. "We shall be left behind sure enough, and Miss Jenny Ann will be angry with me."

It took Harry quite ten minutes to mend Eleanor's saddle girth. She sat limply on the grass, hoping that the pain in her shoulder would pass. It did not, but she managed, with Harry's help, to get back on her horse.

Harry started off at a brisk canter, a little uneasy. He and Eleanor were entirely unfamiliar with the country through which they were traveling. There were roads that intersected each other every few miles. These were not marked with sign-posts and Harry had no idea in what direction lay the old sulphur springs.

But Nellie was not following him. He reined up and rode back to her. "What's the matter now?" he asked impatiently.

"I am so sorry, Harry," apologized Eleanor. "I think I can ride, but I can't go fast; it hurts my shoulder so dreadfully." Eleanor's soft brown eyes were filled with tears, which she tried in vain to keep from falling. Her pretty, light-brown hair, which she had braided and tied up with a black velvet ribbon, hung in a long plait down her back.

Slowly, keeping the horses in a walk, Harry and Eleanor continued their journey. Harry hoped that some one would ride back to see what had delayed them. Eleanor knew that no one would. Madge would think that they had purposely tarried. She would say so to the others, and no one would seriously miss them until after the arrival at the picnic grounds.

But Eleanor and her companion conquered another mile of the way, when they came to what Harry had feared, two roads that crossed their path like two sides of a triangle, each leading in a totally different direction.

Both riders reined up. Harry found a spring and Eleanor felt refreshed after drinking and bathing her face in the cold water. But which road should they take? They had both given up all hope of rejoining the rest of the party on their way to the springs; all the two now dreamed of was ultimately to arrive there. After careful consideration Harry and Eleanor chose the wrong road.

The old sulphur springs had been a fashionable summer resort in Virginia twenty-five years before. It still had its famous sulphur well and a dozen or more brick cottages in various stages of dilapidation. The big hotel had been burned down and no one had attempted to rebuild it.

It had been Miss Betsey Taylor's special desire to drink the waters of the famous sulphur well. She had heard of it as a cure for all the ills of the flesh.

When the riding party dismounted from their horses Madge and Phil espied Miss Betsey peering down the old well. Madge had visited sulphur wells before. "Want a drink, Miss Betsey?" she inquired innocently, coming up to the old lady. She decided to revenge herself on Miss Betsey for the excellent daily advice that the maiden lady bestowed upon her.

Miss Betsey looked pleased. "Certainly. I intend to drink the sulphur water all day, and to have some of it put up in bottles to take back home with me. I can't say that I exactly like the odor." Miss Betsey's aquiline nose was slightly tilted.

"Here you are," interrupted Madge, passing Miss Betsey a glass of the sulphur water.

Miss Betsey took one swallow and gave a hurried gasp. "Take it away, child," she urged faintly. "It is the most horrible thing I ever tasted in my life." The old maid's eyes almost twinkled. "I think, my dear, that I will cure my nerves in a pleasanter way," she decided.Miss Jenny Ann hurried over to them. "What has become of Nellie, Madge?" she questioned immediately.

The little captain shook her head. "She will be along soon. She and Harry Sears were loitering a little behind the rest of us."

But Eleanor and Harry did not arrive. An hour passed, then Miss Jenny Ann and the girls began to feel uneasy. It was growing late. The time had long since come for supper. Finally Jack Bolling suggested that he ride back to see what had become of the wanderers. In the meantime the supper was spread out on the grass. No one ate much. The whole party kept gazing up the road. It was nearly dark when Jack Bolling returned—alone. He had galloped back over the way they had come for three miles without seeing a sign of either Eleanor or Harry.