"Oh! oh, Bobby, look! Kitty!" Pilot was off. Had something startled him, or was it the inherent viciousness of which Melissa had always felt sure? Off down the road like an arrow. "He is running away!" cried Melissa. "She can't hold him any more than she could the wind. Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do?" "Sit down!" commanded Bobby. "Sit still, Lissy, till I come back!" With the word, he slithered down the rock and set out running along the road at his best pace. It was a good pace; Bobby Chanter was the best runner in Corona. Even in her terror, Melissa noticed how beautifully he ran, how nobly he threw his head back, how splendid----what horse could cope with a Marathon runner? Then a new pang assailed her. She crouched on the rock and wrung her hands in an ecstasy of terror. He might be hurt, trying to stop the mad creature. He might be _trampled on_! Wicked, hateful horse! wicked girl to drive such a creature, risking lives that were more precious---- Bobby, reaching a curve in the road, saw Pilot skimming swallow-like along the next reach. At that moment, Kitty turned in her seat, and saw him. A flash, a smile, a wave of the hand--she shot round a second curve and vanished. Bobby Chanter stopped abruptly. "She's got him under!" he muttered. "She's going to turn and come back." He waited for some minutes, but in vain. No one came. Sorely puzzled, Bobby retraced his steps, looking over his shoulder from time to time. That horse wasn't bolting. She had him under control all right. What upon earth--Bobby positively scowled in his perplexity. Had Kitty _meant_ to leave them behind? And why? _Why?_ It was freakish; Kitty never used to be freakish. It was hardly even kind; poor little Lissy, scared to death there up on the rock. She would never have played Kitty a trick like that. She was very sweet. How her little hand trembled as it rested in his! A girl ought not to be _too_ independent, though of course Kitty was the finest---- Bobby Chanter stopped short; the blood rushed singing up into his ears, and he stood in the middle of the road, as if he had been struck. What was that Kitty said to him, the last time he tried--A strange thing to say, he thought at the moment. "Bobby, how _foolish_ you are! I really wonder at you. You are like the man that lighted his lantern, a beautiful, clear, bright, little lantern, and then put it down and went after a will-o'-the-wisp." "I don't in the least understand you, Kitty!" he had said ruefully, for her tone was almost sharp. "No more did the bat; I mean the man!" snapped Kitty, and she turned her back and left him. It was at the Library door, and Melissa was just coming out. How pretty she looked that day, too; her eyes seemed to light up when she looked at a fellow! Was----was _that_ what Kitty meant? He was walking again, faster now; thinking hard as he went, putting two and two together in a fashion new to his simple, objective mind.