We were unable to get Owen ready for the night ride until the second evening, when Vida declared her intention to accompany us as far as Jobe's Hill, seventeen miles down the mountain. "For," said she, "when Mr. Brown is clear from the Adirondack region, he can make his way in comparative safety to Utica, or if he is going to Ohio, he can follow the lake shore to Rochester. Now do not say no, Papa, for I am not afraid; they will never catch Old Jim while I am on his back. Besides, a lady riding with two men might fool even a shrewd detective, if such a thing might be that any of our mountain greenhorns have turned detectives for the sake of the reward which is out for Owen."

"Why, Vida," said Owen.

"Please do not object, Mr. Brown. I am an Adirondack lassie who used to go barefoot in summer, and I know as much about these backwood aspirants as anyone."

"Now, my dear child," I said.

"Papa," she continued, "will you, for once, allow your pet to have her own way? If you should be caught, think of the consequences; and you, Mamma and I would be ashamed to hold up our heads in church. Now, Mamma, will you take my side?"

"You know, Papa," said Mrs. Thompson, "that all the girls are accustomed to—"

"All right—all right," I said, for I felt that Vida's plan was sensible.

i143

At 10 o'clock, when we went out to saddle the horses, we were startled by two strangers standing near the gate, but soon learned they were wood choppers from the timberlands farther up the mountain, who had become confused, thinking they might be on the wrong road.

Fleet Foot Jim, who was always proud when my wife or Vida was on his back, pranced, nibbled his bit, paced and cantered until Vida patted his neck and talked baby talk to him, when he steadied down and we went on at a brisk trot, seldom speaking until we reached Jobe's Hill, where Vida kissed me again, bidding me not to worry, shook hands good-bye with Owen and she was off on a spirited run through the midnight gloom.

Brown and I listened to the klick of the horse's feet as they made the turn down through the dark timber valley, then ascending the hill the klicking grew fainter until they passed over the brow of the hill, when it ceased altogether.

"Listen," said I to Brown, "the long wooden bridge we came over is not more than two miles away," and as we waited the rumbling thunder from old Jim's heels on the bridge assured us that Vida's lonely midnight ride up the Adirondack Mountains would soon be over, and so it was, for she left the hemlock grove on Jobe's Hill at just 11:30 and bounced into her waiting mother's arms at home at 12:15, making the 17 miles in 45 minutes, which she always refers to as her glorious midnight ride.