For an instant they stood, aghast and smitten.
"What's took him?" asked David.
"His breathing, and he's all afire and can't let down a morsel of food. You'd better get on this pony and go right up along, David."
"I suppose I had. Chap from Princetown will have his walk for his pains; but it can't be helped."
Napoleon dismounted and David took his place. "You'll come on, you two, after me," he said. "Best to go across through Dennycoombe wood. Please God, 'tis of no account. Faither's so strong and never knoweth ache or pain; therefore what may be a small thing would seem worse to him than it really is."
He started and then turned back again.
"When you pass Coombeshead, just run in, Nap, and tell Margaret what's happened. I may be back home to-night, or I may not be. And bid her remember the calves."
"I shall be back for that," said Rhoda. "I shall go back to-night in any case."
"All right then," concluded David. Then he galloped off and soon disappeared.
His sister and the boy tramped without speech together until, glowing like the bright fur of a wolf all grey and russet, Dennycoombe wood rose before them, flung on the distant side of Sheep's Tor in evening light.