"There's no time to explain. She slipped down. Where's the doctor?"
"Our doctor is ill, and has no substitute. There's no one nearer than Lawson, at Oakley, and that's twelve miles, very nearly."
"Then I must ride at once," I reply.
"Saddle my horse as quickly as possible," said Bertie to the groom.
"He's lame, sir, can't move!" the man replied, and I remembered that it was so.
"Put a saddle on one of the carriage horses—anything so long as there's no delay."
"They're out, sir! Gone to the station. There's nothing in the stable—only the mare; and to gallop her to Oakley over the ground as it is to-night, will pretty well do for her chance to-morrow—to say nothing of the twelve miles back again. The carriage will be home in less than an hour, sir," the man remonstrated.
"It may be, you don't know, the trains are so horridly unpunctual. Saddle the mare, Jarvis, as quickly as you can—every minute may be of the utmost value!" As Bertie spoke the faintest look of regret showed itself on his face for a second; for of course he knew that such a journey would very materially affect, if it did not entirely destroy, the mare's chance.
Jarvis, who I think had been speculating, very reluctantly took down the saddle and bridle from their pegs, but I snatched them from his arms, and assisted by Bertie, was leading her out of the stable in a very few seconds.
"Hurry on! Never mind the mare—good thing she's in condition," said Bertie, who only thought now of his sister. "I'll go and see the girl."