e quarry, just ahead, and snarled his triumph in
his untamed heart.

Brunette's gallop was faltering a little, and Norah's heart sank. She
had never had such a run: it was hard if she could not see it out,
when they had led the field the whole way--and while yet Killaloe was
going like a galloping-machine in front. Then she heard a shout from
her father and saw him point ahead. "Water!" came to her. She saw
the gleam of water, fringed by reeds: saw Killaloe rise like a deer at
it, taking off well on the near side, and landing with many feet to
spare.

"Oh--we can do that," Norah thought. "Brunette likes water."

She touched the pony with her heel for the first time, and spoke to
her. Brunette responded instantly, gathering herself for the jump.
Again Norah heard a shout, and was conscious of the feeling of vague
irritation that we all know when some one is trying to tell us
something we cannot possibly hear. She took the pony at the jump
about twenty yards from the place where Killaloe had flown it. Nearer
and nearer. The water gleamed before her, very close: she felt the
pony steady herself for the leap. Then the bank gave way under her
heels: there was a moment's struggle and a stupendous splash.

Norah's first thought was that the water was extremely cold; then,
that the weight on her left leg was quite uncomfortable. Brunette
half-crouched, half-lay, in the stream, too bewildered to move; then
she sank a little more to one side and Norah had to grip her mane to
keep herself from going under the surface. It seemed an unpleasantly
long time before she saw her father's face.

"Norah--are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt," she said. "But I can't get my leg out--and
Brunette seems to think she wants to stay here. I suppose she finds
the mud nice and soft." She tried to smile at his anxious face, but
found it not altogether easy.

"We'll get you out," said David Linton. He tugged at the pony's
bridle; and Mrs. Ainslie, arriving presently, came to his assistance,
while some of the other riders, coming up behind, encouraged Brunette
with shouts and hunting-crops. Thus urged, Brunette decided that some
further effort was necessary, and made one, with a mighty flounder,
while Norah rolled off into the water. Half a dozen hands helped her
at the bank.

"You're sure you're not hurt?" her father asked anxiously. "I was
horribly afraid she'd roll on your leg when she moved."

"I'm quite all right--only