CHAPTER XVI.
Just below the lodge gate, and at the very top of the hill, Kate Strong had fallen from her bicycle and sprained her ankle. The sudden and excruciating pain had begotten a momentary faintness that had prevented her from crying out in time to attract the attention of Mrs. Brevoort and her brother, who were at that instant coasting down the hillside at a merry pace.
Dizzy and sick with the shock she had sustained, Kate, realizing that she could not recall her companions, decided to arouse Rudolph at the lodge and send him at once for a physician. The pain in her ankle seemed to grow worse every moment, and she began to doubt her ability to reach the gate of her ancestral home, when an open carriage was dragged over the top of the hill by a panting horse, seemingly one of Westchester County’s Revolutionary relics. The owner and driver of the ancient steed and ramshackle vehicle was wont to remark solemnly that his faithful horse had withstood the wear and tear of years and labor until the bicycle had begun to haunt his footsteps. The effect of wheels operated by men upon the nervous system of an old-fashioned and conservative horse, whose career of usefulness had been rendered possible by the prosperity of the livery-stable business, cannot be appreciated by a flippant mind. In the case under our immediate consideration, the sight of a prostrate bicycle lying by the roadside affected the aged steed instantly. A snort, perhaps of triumph, burst from the supersensitive horse as it planted its forefeet stubbornly in the dust of the roadway and looked down at the overturned wheel.
The sudden halting of the carriage aroused Norman Benedict from an intense concentration of mind. He had been attempting to decide upon a course of action in case the rather unpromising clew he was now following should not result in the discovery of a Rexanian who, as he had been told, had charge of a deserted manor-house somewhere in the neighborhood. The sight that met his eyes caused the reporter to spring hastily from the carriage.
“Are you badly hurt?” he asked Kate Strong, who had managed to rise to her feet by the aid of the fence toward which she had crept. She stood with one hand on the railing, her face pale and drawn.
“I’ve sprained my ankle, I think,” she answered, trying to smile gratefully at the stranger’s kindly interest in her plight. “If I could get to the lodge, there, our man Rudolph could make me comfortable until a doctor reached me.”
“Draw up here,” cried Benedict to his driver. “Put your hand on my arm, Miss—Miss——”
“Miss Strong,” answered Kate, resting her hand on his elbow and hobbling toward the carriage.