"What can have happened?" Mrs. Orban exclaimed. "Bob is such a splendid rider."
"Oh, he can't have been thrown, of course," Eustace said, with an emphasis meant to impress Aunt Dorothy.
"Perhaps it's black-fellows," said Nesta shakily.
"Stupid," said Eustace sharply, "Bob can shoot straighter than any one I know."
"Instead of wrangling over possibilities, we ought to be doing something," said Mrs. Orban. "Eustace, you had better fetch that horse and ride down to father at once. Perhaps he will guess what it means."
Eustace was off like an arrow from a bow, and presently appeared below the veranda, sitting erect and fearless, riding the returned horse.
He looked such a scrap perched up there that Miss Chase had a sudden qualm as to his safety.
"Will he be all right going down alone?" she asked.
"All right?" questioned Mrs. Orban, looking puzzled.
"Yes; I mean, isn't it rather a risk for him?"