"There he is!" screamed Linda, pointing.
Following the direction of her finger, they saw Jack's head and shoulders rise above the edge of the grass. Pulling himself up, he came toward them. He sat in the grass and wiped his face. He was terribly shaken, but he would never confess it. His pallor he could not control. All this had occurred in less than a minute.
The men gathered around him, their questions tumbling out on each other.
"I am not hurt," said Jack, steadying his speech word by word. "I slipped out of the saddle as we went over, and I caught a spruce tree. I had only to climb down the trunk and walk along the ledge to the grass."
Their questions disconcerted him. He got up, and coolly throwing himself down at the edge of the rock, looked over.
"Come back! Come back!" moaned Linda.
"Poor brute!" Jack said, turning away.
As he came back, Linda, straining away from Kate's encircling arms, bent imploring eyes on him. Jack looked at her and stopped. Instead of the worldly little coquette he had thought her up to now, he saw a woman offering him her soul through her eyes. The sight disturbed and thrilled him. It came at a moment of high emotional tension. He gave her his eyes back again, and for moments their glances embraced, careless of the others around. Had it not been for Kate's tight clasp, Linda would have cast herself into his arms on the spot.
"What could have startled your horse?" Sir Bryson asked for the dozenth time, breaking the spell.
Jack shrugged. "Where's Garrod?" he said suddenly.