But she was off like the wind, and quite regardless of danger. The horse raised his head and looked at her, and apparently seemed to take in the gravity of the situation, for it stood quite still while she searched the saddle.
“It is not here!” she said, in a voice of distress.
“No, by Jove, I recollect! I left it at home,” he faltered. “I’m so sorry! Don’t—please—don’t trouble!” and he raised himself on his elbow.
She flew from the horse to the brook, then stopped short for a moment as she remembered that she had nothing to hold water. He watched her and understood.
“Never mind,” he said.
“But there must be some way!” she cried, distressfully.
“If—if you’ll bring some in your hands,” he suggested, the color coming into his face.
She stopped and made a cup of her two palms, and turned to him carefully, fearful of spilling a drop.
The young fellow hesitated, and first glanced up at her face, unseen by her, then bent his head.
When he raised it there was a strange look in his eyes, and he drew a long breath. Doris dropped her hands with a sudden swiftness.