CHAPTER XXI 

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE HOUSEBOAT 

Never was a girl more light-hearted than was Dora when in the saddle on the Kentucky thoroughbred. And her cousin was scarcely less elated. 

"Let us have a little race, Nellie," cried Dora. "It will be lots of fun." 

"Oh, we don't want the horses to run away," answered Nellie. 

"I don't think they will run away." 

The race was started, and to give the girls a chance, Dick and Tom dropped to the rear. Soon a turn of the road hid the two girls from view. 

"Wait a minute--there is something wrong with my saddle," said Tom, a moment later, and he came to a halt and slipped to the ground. 

Dick would have preferred going on, but did not wish to leave his brother alone, so he also halted. A buckle had broken and it took some time to repair the damage, so Tom could continue his ride. 

"The girls have disappeared," said Dick, on making the turn ahead in the road. 

They came to a spot where the road divided into three forks and halted in perplexity. 

"Well, this is a nuisance," declared Tom, after scratching his head. "I suppose they thought we were watching them." 

"More than likely." 

"Which road shall we take?" 

"Bless me if I know." 

"Well, we can't take all three." 

They stared at the hoofprints in the road, but there were too many of them to make anything of the marks. 

"Stumped!" remarked Tom, laconically. 

"Let us wait a while. Perhaps, when the girls see we are not following, they will turn back." 
How does she know Nellie?
her cousin was scarcely less elated. 