He was stamping and fretting on the other side of the stream, the banks
of which were so steep as almost to form a chasm, and from his back the
terrible old Squire hurled the vials of his wrath.

Ronald drew near to Avery, while Jeanie slipped a nervous hand into hers.
Julian, however, turned a defiant face. "It's all right. He can't get at
us," he said audibly.

At which remark Gracie laughed a little hysterically, and Pat made
a grimace.

Perhaps it was this last that chiefly infuriated the Squire, for he
literally bellowed with rage, snatched his animal back with a merciless
hand, and then with whip and spur set him full at the stream.

It was a dangerous leap, for the ground on both banks was yielding and
slippery. Avery stood transfixed to watch the result.

The horse made a great effort to obey his master's behests. It almost
seemed as if he were furious too, Avery thought, as he pounded forward to
clear the obstacle. His leap was superb, clearing the stream by a good
six feet, but as he landed among the primroses disaster overtook him. It
must have been a rabbit-hole, Avery reflected later; for he blundered as
he touched the ground, plunged forward, and fell headlong.

There followed a few moments of sickening confusion during which the
horrified spectators had time to realize that Sir Beverley was pinned
under the kicking animal; then with a savage effort the great brute
rolled over and struggled to his feet.

With a promptitude that spoke well for his nerve, Julian sprang forward
and caught the dangling bridle. The creature tried to jib back upon his
prostrate master, but he dragged him forward and held him fast.

Old Sir Beverley lay prone on the ground, in an awful stillness, with his
white face turned to the sky. His eyes were fast shut, his arms flung
wide, one hand still grasping the whip which he had wielded so fiercely a
few seconds before.

"Is he dead?" whispered Jeanie, clinging close to Avery.

Avery gently released herself and moved forward. "No, dear, no! He--he is
only stunned."

She knelt beside Sir Beverley, overcoming a horrible sensation of
sickness as she did so. The whole catastrophe had been of so sudden and
so violent a nature that she felt almost stunned herself.

She slipped an arm under the old man's head, and it hung upon her like a
leaden weight.

"Oh, Avery, how dreadful!" exclaimed Gracie, aghast.

"Take my handkerchief!" said Avery quickly. "Run down and soak it in