for a little while. There's
a man hurt. I'll be back in an hour."

She looked down at him with hard eyes. "We are going to ride
cross-country--to the Ridge. You might meet us there, if you care to
come."

"You know I care."

"I'm not sure. You don't show it. I--I am tired of never having a
lover--Dicky."

It was a wonderful afternoon. The heavy frost had chilled the air, the
leaves were red, and the sky was blue--and there was green and brown and
gold. But Richard as he rode up in the hills had no eyes for the color,
no ears for the song beaten out by big Ben's hoofs. The vision which held
him was of Eve in the midst of that shouting circle.

The man who had cut himself was black. He was thin and tall and his hair
was gray. He had worked hard all of his life, but he had never worked out
of himself the spirit of joyous optimism.

"I jes' tole 'um," he said, "to send for Dr. Brooks, and he'd beat the
devil gettin' to me."

When Richard reached the Ridge, a flash of scarlet at once caught his
eye. On the slope below Eve, far ahead of Meade, in a mad race, was
making for a grove at the edge of the Crossroads boundaries. She was a
reckless rider, and Richard held his breath as she took fences, leaped
hurdles, and cleared the flat wide stream.

As she came to the grove she turned and waved triumphantly to Pip. For a
moment she made a vivid and brilliant figure in her scarlet against the
green. Then the little wood swallowed her up.

Pip came pounding after, and Richard, spurring his big Ben to
unaccustomed efforts, circled the grove to meet them on the other side.

But they did not come. From the point where he finally drew up he could
command a view of both sides of the slope. Unless they had turned back,
they were still in the grove.

Then out of the woods came Pip, running. He had something in his arms.

"It is Eve," he said, panting; "there was a hole and her horse stumbled.
I found her."

Poor honest Pip! As if she were his own, he held her now in his arms.
Her golden head, swung up to his shoulder, rested heavily above his
heart. Her eyes were shut.

Richard's practiced eye saw at once her state of collapse. He jumped from
his horse. "Give her to me, Meade," he said, "and get somebody's car as
quickly as you can."

And now the tiger in Pip flashed out. "She's mine," he said, breathing
hoarsely. "I love her. You go and get the car."

"Man," the young doctor said steadily, "this isn't the time to quar