The cow and the horse had never before seen so pretty a chase. There was excitement in the air and they sniffed it; they were both young and they began to run too. The sound of heavy galloping filled the place.
Of the two sides of the field which lay farthest from the house, one looked straight over to the glaring Syndicate windows, and one to the rugged bank that rose from the shore. The Baby's one mad desire was to conceal his identity. He made for the dark shore. Another fence, he thought, or the rocks of the bank, would surely deter her flying feet.
They both vaulted the second fence. The Baby still kept his distance ahead, but when he heard that she too sprang over, a fear for her safety darted across his excited brain. Would those cantering animals jump after and crush her beneath their feet, or would she fall on the rocks of the shore which he was going to leap over? The Baby intended to leap the shore and lose his identity by a swim in the black water.
It was this darting thought of anxiety for Helen that made him hesitate in his leap. Too late to stop, the hesitation was fatal to fair performance. The Baby came down on the shore with a groan, his leg under him and his head on the earth.
He saw Helen pause beside him, deliberately staring through the dim light.
'I'm not hurt,' said the Baby, because he knew that he was.
'You are only the Syndicate Baby!' she exclaimed with interrogatory indignation.
'I'm going to cut the Syndicate; I'll never have anything more to do with them, Miss Johns.'
Helen did not understand the significance of this eager assurance.
The Baby's brain became clear; he tried to rise, but could not.