e knew now neither pain nor fear. With a shrill
scream she rushed at Valders-Roan, and for five minutes a whirling cloud
of earth and grass and lumps of sod moved irregularly over the field,
and tails, heads, and legs were seen flung and tossed madly about,
while an occasional shriek of rage or of pain startled the night, and
re-echoed with a weird resonance between the mountains.

It was about five o'clock in the morning of July 11th, that Erik awoke,
with a vague sense that something terrible had happened. His groom
was standing at his bedside with a terrified face, doubtful whether to
arouse his young master or allow him to sleep.

"What has happened, Anders?" cried Erik, tumbling out of bed.

"Lady Clare, sir----"

"Lady Clare!" shouted the boy. "What about her? Has she been stolen?"

"No, I reckon not," drawled Anders.

"Then she's dead! Quick, tell me what you know or I shall go crazy!"

"No; I can't say for sure she's dead either," the groom stammered,
helplessly.

Erik, being too stunned with grief and pain, tumbled in a dazed fashion
about the room, and scarcely knew how he managed to dress. He felt cold,
shivery, and benumbed; and the daylight had a cruel glare in it which
hurt his eyes. Accompanied by his groom, he hastened to the home
pasture, and saw there the evidence of the fierce battle which had raged
during the night. A long, black, serpentine track, where the sod had
been torn up by furious hoof-beats, started from the dead carcass of the
faithful Shag and moved with irregular breaks and curves up toward the
gate that connected the pasture with the underbrush of birch and alder.
Here the fence had been broken down, and the track of the fight suddenly
ceased. A pool of blood had soaked into the ground, showing that one of
the horses, and probably the victor, must have stood still for a while,
allowing the vanquished to escape.

Erik had no need of being told that the horse which had attacked Lady
Clare was Valders-Roan; and though he would scarcely have been able to
prove it, he felt positive that John Garvestad had arranged and probably
watched the fight. Having a wholesome dread of jail, he had not dared to
steal Lady Clare; but he had chosen this contemptible method to satisfy
his senseless jealousy. It was all so cunningly devised as to baffle
legal inquiry. Valders-Roan had gotten astray, and being a heavy beast,
had broken into a neighbor's field and fought with his filly, chasing
her a