"He's picked up something," he cried. "Don't wait; I'll lead him in."
Macleod had checked his horse, but at the words he shook his bridle and shot forward. Dick patted Agility's neck, and lifted his forefoot. He whistled softly.
"You poor old beggar!" he said. A scrap of barbed wire was embedded in the frog by two cruel teeth. The horse flinched from the touch. Dick soothed him a moment, and then, with a quick movement, drew out the torturing steel, dodging back as Agility plunged wildly.
"There!" he said. "All over, old chap. Now come and get doctored."
He led him slowly across the grass, Agility on three legs. Near the gate O'Mara, wide-eyed with horror from Macleod's story, met him.
"Barbed wire, is it? I dunno why they have the misfortunate stuff on anny decent place," he said, taking the horse's foot up to examine it. "H'm—'twill be a while before he gets that to the ground. Could ye bathe him now, Master Dick? I'd do it meself, only I must drive Mr. Macleod to Mernda; the browns are ready in the stable, an' 'twill be quicker than riding. And there's not another man about the place; they're all out at some job or other. Sure I'm only in meself ten minutes, and that's why the browns are handy; I drove Mr. Macleay over to Andrews's for the day."
"I'll bathe him, of course," Dick said, taking Agility's bridle. "Don't you worry about him."
"I'd have worried ten minutes ago, but it don't seem to matter much now," the old groom said. "Poor old Bill Summers! Well, I hope them murdherin' fiends will find it the worst day's work ever they did. Masther Dick, will ye keep a lookout, an' the first man that comes in, send him over to Andrews's for Mr. Macleay—he'd betther be home. There'll be guns and cartridges wanting out of the store."
"All right," Dick nodded. "Better let me help you put the browns in."
The light buggy was still in the yard, and the horses harnessed. They put them back, and O'Mara drove out just as Macleod came running over.