mill, and a short cut
through a meadow of The Gaffs would soon take her there.

She failed to see a warning on the fence which said: _Keep
out--Danger._

Through the bars she went, intent only on soon reaching the mill
beyond and glorying in the strong rich smell of autumn in leaf and
grass and air.

"What a beautiful horse that is in the pasture," she thought, and
then her attention went to a meadow lark flushed and exultant. She
heard shouts, and now--why was Jim, the stable boy, running toward
her so fast, carrying a pitchfork in his hands and shouting:
"Whoa--there, Antar--Antar,--you, sir!"

And the horse! One look was enough. With ears laid back, and mouth
wide open, with eyes blazing with the fire of fury he was plunging
straight at her.

Helpless, she turned in sickening doubt, to feel that her limbs were
limp in the agony of fear. She heard the thunder of the man-eating
stallion's hoofs just behind her and she butted blindly, as she sank
down, into some one who held bravely her hand as she fell, and the
next instant she heard a thundering report and smelt a foul blast of
gunpowder. She looked up in time to see the great horse pitch back on
his haunches, rear, quiver a moment and strike desperately at the air
with his front feet and fall almost upon her.

When she revived, the stable boy stood near by the dead stallion,
pale with fright and wonder. A half-grown boy stood by her, holding
her hand.

"You are all right now," he said quietly as he helped her to arise.
In his right hand he held a pistol and the foul smoke still oozed up
from the nipple where the exploded cap lay shattered, under the
hammer.

He was perfectly cool--even haughtily so. He scarcely looked at Helen
nor at Jim, who kept saying nervously:

"You've killed him--you've killed him--what will Mr. Travis say?"

The boy laughed an ironical laugh. Then he walked up and examined the
shot he had made. Squarely between the great eyes the ball had gone,
and scarcely had the glaring, frenzied eye-balls of the man-eater
been fixed in the rigid stare of death. He put his fingers on it, and
turning, said:

"A good shot, running--and at twenty paces!"

Then he stood up proudly, and his blue eyes flashed defiance as he
said:

"And what will Mr. Travis say? Well, tell him first of all that this
man-eating stallion of his caught the bullet I had intended for his
woman-eating master--this being my birth-day. And tell him, if he
asks you who