"That must hurt a lot, Miss Varley," spoke Joe with warm sympathy. "I know what a sprain is. I've had many a one. Let me wrap a cold, wet rag around it. That will do until you can get to a doctor and have him reduce it."
Not waiting for permission Joe hurried back to the brook, and dipped his handkerchief in the cold water. This he bound tightly around the already swelling wrist, tying it skillfully, for he knew something about first aid work--one needed to when one played ball for a living.
"That's better," she said, with a sigh of relief. "It's ever so much better. Oh, I don't know what would have happened if you had not been here!"
"Probably someone else would have done as well," laughed Joe. "Now about that carriage."
Prince looked up as the youth approached, and Joe saw a big bruise on the animal's head.
"Too bad, old fellow, that I had to do that," spoke Joe, for he loved animals. "No other way, though. I had to stop you."
A look showed him that the horse was not otherwise injured by the runaway, and another look showed him that it would be impossible to use the carriage. One of the wheels was broken.
"Here's a pickle!" cried Joe. "A whole bottle of 'em, for that matter. I can't get her home that way, and she can't very well walk. I can't carry her, either. I guess the only thing to do is to get her to the nearest house, and then go for help--or 'phone, if they have a wire. I'm in for the day's adventure, I guess, but I can't leave her."
Not that he wanted to, for the more he was in the girl's presence, the more often he looked into her brown eyes, the more Joe felt that he was caring very much for Miss Varley.
"Come, Matson!" he chided himself, "don't be an idiot!"
"Well?" she questioned, as he came back to her.
"The carriage is broken," he told her. "Do you think you could walk to the nearest house?"
"Oh, I'm sure of it," she replied, and now she smiled, showing two rows of white, even teeth. "I'm feeling ever so much better. But perhaps I am keeping you," and she hung back.
"Not at all. I'm glad to be able to help you. I suppose I had better tie your horse."
"Perhaps."
As Joe turned back to the grazing animal there was the sound of a motor car out in the road. He and the girl turned quickly, the same thought in both their minds. Then a look of pleased surprise came over Miss Varley's face.
"Reggie! Reggie!" she called, waving her uninjured hand at a young man in the car. "Reggie, Prince bolted with me! Come over here!"
The machine was stopped with a screeching of brakes, and the young fellow leaped out.
"Why, Mabel!" he cried, as he came sprinting across the field. "Are you hurt? What happened? Dad got anxious about you being gone so long, and I said I'd look you up in my car. Are you hurt, Mabel?"
Joe made a mental note that of all names he liked best that of Mabel--especially when the owner had brown eyes.
"Only a sprained wrist, Reggie. This gentleman hit Prince with a stone and saved me from going over the cliff."
"Oh, he did!"
By this time the youth from the auto was beside Joe and the girl. The two young men faced each other. Joe gave a gasp of surprise that was echoed by the other, for the youth confronting our hero was none other than he who had accused Joe of robbing that odd valise.
CHAPTER VIII
A PARTING
"Why--er--that is--I'm awfully obliged to you, of course, for saving my sister," spoke the newcomer--his name must be Reggie Varley, Joe rightly decided. "Very much obliged, old man, and--er----"
He paused, evidently quite embarrassed.
"You two act as though you had met before," said Miss Varley, with a smile. "Have you?"
"Once," spoke Joe, drily. "I did not know your brother's name then." He did not add that he was glad to find that he was Mabel's brother, and not a more distant relation.
"How strange that you two should have met," went on Mabel Varley.
"Yes," returned Joe, "and it was under rather strange circumstances. It was while I was on my way down here to join the ball team, and your brother thought----"
"Ahem!" exclaimed Reggie, with a meaning look at Joe. "I--er--you'd better get in here with me, Mabel, and let me get you home. Perhaps this gentleman----"
"His name is Joe Matson," spoke the girl, quickly.
"Perhaps Mr. Matson will come home with--us," went on Reggie. Obviously it was an effort to extend this invitation, but he could do no less under the circumstances. Joe felt this and said quickly:
"No, thank you, not this time."
"Oh, but I want papa and mamma to meet you!" exclaimed Mabel, impulsively. "They'll want to thank you. Just think, Reggie, he saved my life. Prince was headed for the cliff, and he stopped him."
There were tears in her eyes as she gazed at Joe.
"It was awfully good and clever of you, old man," said Reggie, rather affectedly, yet it was but his way. "I'm sure I appreciate it very much.
And we'd like--my sister and I--we'd like awfully to have you come on and take lunch with us. I can put the horse up somewhere around here, I dare say, and we can go on in my car."
"The carriage is broken Reggie," Mabel informed him.
"Too bad. I'll send Jake for it later. Will you come?"
He seemed to wish to ignore, or at least postpone, the matter of the valise and his accusation. Perhaps he felt how unjust it had been. Joe realized Reggie's position.
"No, thank you," spoke the young pitcher. "I must be getting back to my hotel. I was just out for a walk. Some other time, perhaps. If you like, I'll try and put the horse in some near-by barn for you, and I'll drop you a card, saying where it is."
"Will you really, old man?" asked Reggie, eagerly. "It will be awfully decent of you, after--well, I'd appreciate it very much. Then I could get my sister home, and to a doctor."
"Which I think would be a wise thing to do," remarked Joe. "Her wrist seems quite badly sprained. I'll attend to the horse. So now I'll say good-bye."
He turned away. He and Reggie had not shaken hands. In spite of the service Joe had rendered he could not help feeling that young Varley harbored some resentment against him.
"And if it's her jewelry that is missing, with his watch, and he tells her that he suspects me--I wonder how she'll feel afterward?" mused Joe.
"I wonder?"
Mabel held out her uninjured hand, and Joe took it eagerly. The warm, soft pressure lingered for some little time afterward in his hardened palm--a palm roughened by baseball play.