"You'll have to go to Berryville.

Dr.Mills is a master hand for broken bones and old Dr.Babcock ain't.

'Tisn't but about three miles from here to his house, and you'll fetch him 'fore there's any harm done waitin'." "Don't kill Lita," called Miss Celia from the cart, as it began to move.
But Ben did not hear her, for he was off across the fields, riding as if life and death depended upon his speed.
"That boy will break his neck," said Mr.Paine, standing still to watch horse and rider go over the wall as if bent on instant destruction.
"No fear for Ben, he can ride any thing, and Lita was trained to leap," answered Miss Celia, falling back on the hay with a groan, for she had involuntarily raised her head to see her little squire dash away in gallant style.
"I should hope so; regular jockey, that boy.

Never see any thing like it out of a race-ground," and Farmer Paine strode on, still following with his eye the figures that went thundering over the bridge, up the hill, out of sight, leaving a cloud of cloud of dust behind.
Now that his mistress was safe, Ben enjoyed that wild ride mightily, and so did the bay mare; for Lita had good blood in her, and proved it that day by doing her three miles in a wonderfully short time.

People jogging along in wagons and country carry-alls stared amazed as the reckless pair went by.