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She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces. He was quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it. She felt him bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set him at the gate.

He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle. But he was too heavily handicapped. He slipped as he rose to the leap. He blundered badly against the top bar of the gate, finally stumbled over and fell on the other side, pitching his rider headlong into a slough of trampled mud.

He was up in a moment and careering across the field, but Doris was not so nimble. It was by no means her first tumble, nor had it been wholly unexpected; but she had fallen with considerable violence, and it took her a second or two to collect her wits. Then, like Hector, she sprang up–only to reel back through the slippery mud and catch at the splintered gate for support, there to cling sick and dizzy, with eyes fast shut, while the whole world rocked around her in chaos indescribable.

A full minute must have passed thus, then very suddenly out of the confusion came a voice. Vaguely she recognized it, but she was too occupied in the struggle to keep her senses to pay much attention to what it said.

“I mustn’t faint!” she gasped desperately through her set teeth. “I mustn’t faint!”

A steady arm encircled her, holding her up.

“You’ll be all right in half a minute,” said the voice, close to her now. “You came down rather hard.”

She fought with herself and opened her eyes. Her head was swimming still, but she compelled herself to look.

Jeff Ironside was beside her, one foot lodged upon the lowest bar of the gate while he propped her against his bent knee.

He looked down at her with a certain sternness of demeanour that was characteristic of him. “Take your time,” he said. “It was a nasty knock-out.”

“I–I’m all right,” she told him breathlessly. “Where–where is Hector?”

“If you mean your animal,” he said in the slow, grim way which she began to remember as his, “he is probably well on his way home by now. He’ll be all right,” he added. “The gate from this field into the road is open.”

“Oh!” The faintness was overcoming her again as she tried to stand. She clutched and held his arm. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I–never felt so stupid before.”

“Don’t be in a hurry!” he said. “You can’t help it.”

She sank back against his support again and so remained for a few seconds. He stood like a rock till she opened her eyes once more.

She found his own upon her, but he dropped them instantly. “You are not hurt anywhere, are you?” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’ve wrenched my shoulder a little, but it isn’t much.”

“Which shoulder?”

“The right. No, really it isn’t serious.” She winced as he touched it with his hand nevertheless.

“Sure?” he said.

He began to feel it very carefully, and she winced again with indrawn breath.

“It’s only bruised,” she said.

“It’s painful, anyhow,” he remarked bluntly. “Well, you must be wet to the skin. You had better come with me to the mill and get dry.”

Doris flushed a little. “Oh, thank you, but really–I don’t want to–to trespass on your kindness. I can quite well walk home–from here.”

“You can’t,” he said flatly. “Anyhow, you are not going to try. You had better let me carry you.”

But Doris drew back at that with swift decision. “Oh no! I am quite well now–I can walk.”

She stood up and he took his foot from the gate. She glanced at the top bar thereof that hung in splinters.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured apologetically.

He also looked at his damaged property. “Yes, it was a pity you attempted it,” he said.