that blazed in her pale face, made scathing answer.

"You shan't kill the poor brute like a rat in a trap. He deserves better
than that. You had your chance of killing in the open, and you failed. It
isn't sport to kill in the dark."

"We'll soon have 'im out," said the huntsman grimly.

She shook her head. Her hands, in the ripped gloves, were clenched and
quivering.

The huntsman slashed and swore at one of the hounds to relieve his
feelings, and looked for inspiration to the growing crowd of riders.

One of them, the M.F.H., Colonel Rose of Wardenhurst, pushed his horse
forward. He raised his hat with extreme courtliness.

"Madam," he said, "while appreciating your courage, allow me to point out
that that fox is now the legal property of the Hunt, and you have no
right whatever to deprive us of it."

His daughter Ina, a slim girl of twenty, was at his elbow. She jogged it
impatiently. "He'll remain our property whether we kill or not, Dad. Let
him live to run again!"

"What?" cried a voice in the rear. "Let a woman interfere? Great Heavens
above, Barchard! Have you gone mad?"

Barchard the huntsman glanced round uneasily as an old man on a powerful
white horse forced his way to the front. His grey eyes glowered down at
Avery as though he would slay her. The trampling hoofs came within a yard
of her. But if he thought to make her desert her post by that means, he
was mistaken. She stood there, actually waiting to be hustled by the
fretting animal, and yielding not an inch.

"Stand aside!" thundered Sir Beverley. "Confound you! Stand aside!"

But Avery never stirred. She faced him panting but unflinching. The foam
of his hunter splashed her, the mud from the stamping hoofs struck
upwards on her face; but still she stood to defend the defenceless thing
behind her.

She often wondered afterwards what Sir Beverley would have done had he
been left to settle the matter in his own way. She was horribly afraid,
but she certainly would never have yielded to aught but brute force.

But at this juncture there came a sudden diversion. Another voice made
itself heard in furious protest. Another horse was spurred forward; and
Piers, white to the lips, with eyes of awful flame, leaned from his
saddle and with his left hand caught Sir Beverley's bridle, dragging his
animal back.

What he said Avery did not hear; it was spoken under his breath. But she
saw a terrible look flash like an evil spirit into Sir Beverley's