only signified that Jack Morgan didn't like to see any of his
field before him. There was need, indeed, now for galloping, and it
may be doubted whether Morgan himself was not doing his best. There
were about five or six in the second flight, and among these Lord
George and Lizzie were well placed. But Lucinda had pressed again
ahead. "Miss Roanoke had better have a care, or she'll blow her
horse," Lord George said. Lizzie didn't mind what happened to Miss
Roanoke's horse, so that it could be made to go a little slower and
fall behind. But Lucinda still pressed on, and her animal went with
a longer stride than Lizzie's horse.

They now crossed a road, descending a hill, and were again in a close
country. A few low hedges seemed as nothing to Lizzie. She could
see her cousin gallop over them ahead of her, as though they were
nothing; and her own horse, as he came to them, seemed to do exactly
the same. On a sudden they found themselves abreast with the
huntsman. "There's a biggish brook below there, my lord," said he.
Lizzie was charmed to hear it. Hitherto she had jumped all the big
things so easily, that it was a pleasure to hear of them. "How are
we to manage it?" asked Lord George. "It is rideable, my lord; but
there's a place about half a mile down. Let's see how'll they head.
Drat it, my lord, they've turned up, and we must have it or go back
to the road." Morgan hurried on, showing that he meant to "have" it,
as did also Lucinda. "Shall we go to the road?" said Lord George.
"No, no!" said Lizzie. Lord George looked at her and at her horse,
and then galloped after the huntsman and Lucinda. The horsey man with
the well-bred screw was first over the brook. The little animal could
take almost any amount of water, and his rider knew the spot. "He'll
do it like a bird," he had said to Greystock, and Greystock had
followed him. Mr. MacFarlane's hired horse did do it like a bird. "I
know him, sir," said Carstairs. "Mr. Nappie gave L250 for him down in
Northamptonshire last February;--bought him of Mr. Percival. You know
Mr. Percival, sir?" Frank knew neither Mr. Percival nor Mr. Nappie,
and at this moment cared nothing for either of them. To him, at this
moment, Mr. MacFarlane, of Buchanan Street, Glasgow, was the best
friend he ever had.

Morgan, knowing well the horse he rode, dropped him into the brook,
floundered and half swam through the mud and water, and scrambled out
safely on the other side. "He wouldn't have j