"We must be careful here, master," said Eric, when Peggy came to a standstill before some obstacle which was hidden from sight by the sea of mud and water.
"Of course we must," said Tyler impatiently, and he gave Peggy a flick with the whip as he spoke.
The horse started forward, the wheel struck against one of the large stones, and the next minute the chaise was lying on its side, and Eric found himself in the hedge that skirted the roadway. His master lay motionless a few feet from the overturned gig, while Peggy kicked and plunged to be freed from the broken shafts and harness.
As soon as he could scramble out, Eric ran to soothe the frightened horse, thinking his master would set things straight and send him on now for the doctor. But to his dismay, Tyler never moved, never uttered a groan, though it was some minutes before he could make the horse stand still.
As soon as he had managed this, he ran to his master, and raised his head, which he found resting upon a large stone. Blood was flowing from the forehead, and Eric grew more alarmed as he noticed the deathly whiteness of the face.
"Can't you speak, master? Can't you tell me what to do?" he said in an agonised tone; and then he put his hand upon the cold lips.
They were growing stiff, and the boy, recalling his mother's death, felt sure that his kind master had received his death-blow.
He burst into tears, as he thought of the kind words he had so often received. The only really kind words that had been given him by anybody except his mother had come from this man, and now he was dead. Eric seemed to know it beyond a shadow of a doubt before any one else came near to confirm it.
How long he sat with his master's head propped upon his knee, he did not know, but presently a shout to move out of the way made him look up, and he saw the ruddy face of the old doctor, mounted on his horse, but without his gig, only a few feet from him.
"What's the matter here?" he said. "Ain't you the boy from The Magpie?"