“Show me the way to Rising,” said his rider.
The hard bell-voice was unmistakable.
“When you come where the track forks,” I began.
She interrupted me.
“How can I distinguish in the dark?” she returned angrily. “Go on before, and show me the way.”
Now I had good reason for thinking she knew the way perfectly well; and still better reason for declining to go on in front of her.
“You must excuse me,” I said, “for it is time I were at home; but if you will turn and ride on in front of me, I will show you a better, though rather longer way to Rising.”
“Go on, or I will ride you down,” she cried, turning her horse's head toward me, and making her whip hiss through the air.
The sound of it so startled Zoe, that she sprang aside, and was off the road a few yards before I could pull her up. Then I saw the woman urging her horse to follow. I knew the danger she was in, and, though tempted to be silent, called to her with a loud warning.
“Mind what you are doing, Lady Cairnedge!” I cried. “The ground here will not carry the weight of a horse like yours.”