t back to the
little wood again," said Cox to the Squire. They were at that moment
in an extreme corner of an outlying copse, and between them and
Barford Little Wood was a narrow strip of meadow, over which they had
passed half-a-dozen times that day. Between the copse and the meadow
there ran a broad ditch with a hedge,--a rotten made-up fence of
sticks and bushes, which at the corner had been broken down by the
constant passing of horses, till, at this hour of the day, there was
hardly at that spot anything of a fence to be jumped. "We must cross
with them again, Cox," said the Squire. At that moment he was nearest
to the gap, and close to him were Ralph and George Morris, as well
as the huntsman. But Mr. Newton's horse was standing sideways to the
hedge, and was not facing the passage. He, nevertheless, prepared to
pass it first, and turned his horse sharply at it; as he did so, some
bush or stick caught the animal in the flank, and he, in order to
escape the impediment, clambered up the bank sideways, not taking
the gap, and then balanced himself to make his jump over the ditch.
But he was entangled among the sticks and thorns and was on broken
ground, and jumping short, came down into the ditch. The Squire fell
heavily head-long on to the field, and the horse, with no further
effort of his own, but unable to restrain himself, rolled over his
master. It was a place as to which any horseman would say that a
child might ride through if on a donkey without a chance of danger,
and yet the three men who saw it knew at once that the Squire had
had a bad fall. Ralph was first through the gap, and was off his own
horse as the old Irish hunter, with a groan, collected himself and
got upon his legs. In rising, the animal was very careful not to
strike his late rider with his feet; but it was too evident to Cox
that the beast in his attempt to rise had given a terrible squeeze to
the prostrate Squire with his saddle.

In a moment the three men were on their knees, and it was clear that
Mr. Newton was insensible. "I'm afraid he's hurt," said Morris. Cox
merely shook his head, as he gently attempted to raise the Squire's
shoulder against his own. Ralph, as pale as death, held his father's
hand in one of his own, and with the other endeavoured to feel the
pulse of the heart. Presently, before any one else came up to them, a
few drops of blood came from between the sufferer's lips. Cox again
shook his head. "We'd better get him