“She rides well, certainly,” Hilary returned, deliberately; “but she isn’t a child.”
“Fifteen, I should say.”
“Or a little more.”
“Anyhow, I am interested, and am going over.”
“I shall have to stand by you, and keep you out of mischief, I suppose.”
A few scrambling steps, a slide, and a roll, brought them to the base of the declivity, and within the precincts of Cranstoun Chase enclosure. The identity of the girl had not suggested itself to either of them; but simultaneously within their hearts the sight of her had aroused a strange feeling of interest and excitement. About that small, pale face, shining dark eyes and lithe, girlish form, there clung a fascination which both men felt powerless to resist. And although he had not yet had time to realize it, Lord Carthew, for his part, had fallen in love at first sight with the beauty and the daring of the thoroughbred’s rider.
Dusk was gathering about them; yet they pressed on, both filled with the overmastering desire to catch another glimpse of that charming vision. After forcing their way in silence through the thick undergrowth, they came upon a wide, grassy avenue ploughed by the recent tramp of horses’ feet. As they emerged from among the trees again, upon their ears came the sound of a horse’s flying feet tearing up the turf. A good way off yet they could see her, and see, too, the antics of the small, black horse, beside himself with excitement, rearing, plunging, and throwing up his heels in a way which would have unseated any but a clever and experienced rider.
Suddenly the thoroughbred paused, raised his head, sniffing the air, and then started off at a mad pace along the turf avenue. It seemed patent to the two spectators that he was running away with his daring rider, the more so as a little feminine shriek reached their ears.
Clearly it was their duty to stop him. The girl would most certainly break her neck if thrown at that rate of progress. Their plans were formed after a second’s deliberation. As the horse neared them, coming like the wind, with clods of earth torn up by his heels flying in the rear, Lord Carthew sprang into the open, waving the animal back, and in the moment’s pause of alarm, Hilary dashed forward and seized the reins, hanging on to them with all his weight.
Snorting, and quivering in every limb, the horse at length came to a standstill, and looked with wide-open, bloodshot eyes at his captor. He for his part had his gaze fixed upon the rider.