"Which foot have you hurt?"
"The right one."
"That's good. Then you can ride sidesaddle. Are you sure that is all?"
He was already consuming brandy and biscuit at a rate to dissipate all immediate anxiety.
"Yes; and I declare it's worth it!" he cried with enthusiasm; a statement which, if slightly ambiguous, conveyed a cheerful impression.
"Did the fall kill the horse?" Amy asked, with a little quiver in her voice, of pity for the poor beast.
"No; I thought it best to cut an artery for him. Poor boy! He floundered terribly before he went down."
"What threw him?"
"Something in the way of a branch or a piece of timber. Lucky it happened where it did," he added. "I couldn't have gone far looking for shelter."
"Poor old nag!" said Amy. Then, perceiving that she had not been altogether polite: "Aren't you nearly frozen?" she asked.