red to take.

The rain was coming down in a sharp shower, and Hector was becoming more
and more restive. She halted him by the gate and looked over. Beyond lay
a field from which she knew the road to be easily accessible. She hated
to turn her back upon it.

Behind her over a rise came the plough, drawn by two stout horses,
driven by a sturdy figure that loomed gigantic against the sky. Glancing
back, Doris saw this figure, and an odd little spirit of dare-devilry
entered into her. She did not want to come face to face with the
ploughman, neither did she want to beat a retreat before the five-barred
gate that opposed her progress.

She spoke to Hector reassuringly and backed him several paces. He was
quick to grasp her desire and eager to fall in with it. She felt him
bracing himself under her, and she laughed in sheer delight as she set
him at the gate.

He went at it with a will over the broken ground, rose as she lifted
him, and made a gallant effort to clear the obstacle. But he was too
heavily handicapped. He slipped as he rose to the leap. He blundered
badly against the top bar of the gate, finally stumbled over and fell on
the other side, pitching his rider headlong into a slough of trampled
mud.

He was up in a moment and careering across the field, but Doris was not
so nimble. It was by no means her first tumble, nor had it been wholly
unexpected; but she had fallen with considerable violence, and it took
her a second or two to collect her wits. Then, like Hector, she sprang
up--only to reel back through the slippery mud and catch at the
splintered gate for support, there to cling sick and dizzy, with eyes
fast shut, while the whole world rocked around her in chaos
indescribable.

A full minute must have passed thus, then very suddenly out of the
confusion came a voice. Vaguely she recognized it, but she was too
occupied in the struggle to keep her senses to pay much attention to
what it said.

"I mustn't faint!" she gasped desperately through her set teeth. "I
mustn't faint!"

A steady arm encircled her, holding her up.

"You'll be all right in half a minute," said the voice, close to her
now. "You came down rather hard."

She fought with herself and opened her eyes. Her head was swimming
still, but she compelled herself to look.

Jeff Ironside was beside her, one foot lodged upon the lowest bar of the
gate while he propped her against his bent knee.

He looked down at her with a certain stern