so began the most eventful journey
of my life--one which it seems little short of a miracle did not end in
my embarking on that still longer journey from which there is no return.

The coach was due to arrive at Round Green at about 9.30, and we were
to wait for it, as usual, at the Sportsman Inn, which, being the end of
a stage, was always stopped at for the purpose of changing horses.

It was a bitterly cold morning; the roads seemed as hard as iron, and
our breath smoked as we talked. We had covered nearly half the
distance, and were going along in fine fashion, when suddenly there was
a clatter and a crash. I felt myself flung forward, heard a shout from
Sparrow, and the next moment found myself rolling down a steep bank by
the roadside, half blinded by the cold rime from the frosty grass. It
took me a few seconds to recover myself, and when at length I scrambled
to my feet, I saw at once what had happened. The pony had slipped on a
sheet of ice, and come down badly, cutting its knees and smashing one
of the shafts. Fortunately Sparrow had sustained no injury, and with
the help of a countryman who happened to be crossing a neighbouring
field we unharnessed our steed, and got it once more on its legs.

For a time the accident occupied the whole of our attention. Sparrow
was in a fine state of mind, fearing that he would be blamed for the
mishap. It was evident that we could not go on, and if we returned we
should have to walk. Then it flashed across my mind that this delay
would cause me to lose the coach. There was no catching a later train
in those days, and I could not bring myself to face the prospect of
spending another day in that deserted school.

"I shall go on," I declared to Sparrow, "and you can return with the
pony."

"I doubt if you'll reach the Sportsman in time, Mr. Eden," was the
answer. "And there's your box. We must back the chaise into the
roadside till it can be sent for, but we ought not to leave your box."

"Oh, bother my luggage!" I began, when the countryman interrupted and
came to the rescue.

"I doan't mind carrying the young gen'leman's box as fur as the
Sportsman for a mug o' beer," he remarked; "then you can get back home
with the pony."

The arrangement was no sooner suggested than I agreed to it, and
Sparrow was obliged to acquiesce. The damaged carriage was pushed back
into a gateway, my trunk was lifted out, and hoisted on to the broad
shoulders of the labourer; a