one at leisure to assist
him to his feet rose by himself, and walked some distance to a grass
bank where he could sit down and examine for himself the extent of his
injuries.

"Wal, young squire," said a voice at Dick's side, as that young
gentleman found eyesight enough to look about him, "you've done it this
time."

The owner of the voice was the driver of the cart, and the tones and
looks with which he made the remark were anything but unflattering to
Richardson.

"It was a close squeak through the gate," said the latter, "not six
inches either side; and if it hadn't been for the ruts we should have
kept up all right till now. I say, do you think the trap's damaged, or
the mare?"

The mare was lying very comfortably on her side taking a good breath
after her race, and not offering to resume her feet. As for the
waggonette it was lying equally comfortably on its side, with one wheel
up in the air.

"Shaft broken," said the driver, "that's all."

"That's all!" said Dick, dolefully, "we shall catch it, and no mistake."

The man grinned.

"You can't expect to play games of that sort without scratching the
varnish off," said he. "No fault of yours you haven't got your necks
broke."

"Suppose we try to get her up?" said Richardson, looking as if this last
information had very little comfort in it.

So among them they unharnessed the mare and managed to disengage her
from the vehicle and get her to her feet.

"She's all sound," said the man, after a careful overhauling.

"She's a cad," said Dick, "and I shouldn't have been sorry if she'd
broken her neck. Look at the smash she's made."

The trap was indeed far worse damaged than they supposed as first. Not
only was a shaft broken, but a wheel was off, and the rail all along one
side was torn away. It was clear there was no more driving to be got
out of it that afternoon, and the boys gave up the attempt to raise it
in disgust.

"Do you know Tom, our man--Ashford's man?" said Dick.

"Who? Tom Tranter? Yes, I knows him."

"Well, you'll meet him on the road between here and Markridge, walking,
or perhaps running. Tell him we've had a spill and he'd better see
after the trap, will you? We'll go on."

"What about the horse, though?" said Heathcote.

"I suppose we shall have to take the beast along with us. We can't
leave her here."

"I think we'd better stop till Tom comes, and all go on together,"
suggested Heathcote.

"I suppose you funk