ere's the Master taking a view. He will tell us if it's safe, if not,
we must try the meadow. Ride over here towards him."

She swerved to the side as she spoke, and a moment later was within
short enough distance to hear the warning cry. The Master pointed with
his whip in the direction of the meadow, of which Esmeralda had spoken,
and the next moment the whole hunt was galloping after him. The whole
hunt, we have said, but there was one exception, for one rider refused
to take warning or to turn aside from the direct line across country.
The sudden change of course had left him in the rear, and so it happened
that his absence was not noted by his companions, and it was only when
several moments had passed that Esmeralda, looking from side to side,
began to draw her delicate brows into a frown as she asked Hilliard--

"Where's father? I can't see him. He is not here."

"I don't see him either, but he was with us five minutes ago before we
turned back. I saw him in the last field."

"So did I, but where is he now? He can't--" Esmeralda reined in
suddenly and turned startled eyes upon her companion--"he can't have
tried that brook?"

"No, no! Certainly not." But even as he spoke Hilliard had a prevision
of the truth. Although he would not admit as much as Esmeralda, there
had been something in the Major's bearing which had struck him
unpleasantly since the moment of meeting, and his reckless riding had
deepened the impression. "You go on," he said earnestly, "and I will
ride back and see. Perhaps he took a look at the brook and then had to
come round after all, which would make him late. Please go on, Miss
Joan."

But Esmeralda looked him full in the eyes and turned her horse back
towards the brook.

"I am going back myself. If there has been an accident, it is I who
should be there. Don't hinder me, Mr Hilliard. I must go to my
father."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

TROUBLE AT KNOCK.

The Major was lying on the bank of the stream, white and motionless,
while Black Bess was pawing the air in agony a few yards away.
Esmeralda slipped from her saddle and ran to his side, and he opened his
eyes and smiled at her feebly.

"Joan, my girl! That's right. My--own--fault! I had no business to
try it, but I was--mad, I think. That poor beast!" and he turned away
his head, unable to look upon the animal's struggles. "I can't move.
Get a cart--O'Brien's farm."

"I'll go! I can see the chimneys. I