word," said De Lacy, "free yourself from the pommel
and catch me around the neck."

The Countess nodded. "I understand," she said, and gave a quick look
forward. The hill was getting very near.

He reached over and wound his right arm about her slender waist.
"Now!" he said sharply.

For a second the Countess hung in the air between the plunging horses;
then the bay shot ahead alone--and she rested safely across De Lacy's
saddle, his arms about her and hers about his neck.

Of his own accord the black had instantly slackened speed, and now at
the word he stopped, and the Countess dropped lightly to the ground.

"How can I ever thank you?" she said, giving Sir Aymer her hand.

"By not trying to," he answered, dismounting and kissing her fingers
almost reverently. "Fortune has already blessed me over much."

She turned to Selim, who was standing quietly beside his master.

"I may at least thank you, you beauty," she said, and kissed his soft
black muzzle.

De Lacy smiled. "Never before have I wished I were a horse," he said.

A bit of color flashed into her cheeks and she busied herself in
twisting into place a roll of ruddy hair that had been shaken from its
fastenings. It took an unusual time, it seemed, and just as she
finished Sir James Dacre rode up.

"I claim a share in the rescue," he said gayly, and gave the Countess
her hat, that had been lost when she changed horses. Then silently he
held out his hand to De Lacy; and afterward he petted the black and
whispered in his ear. And Selim answered by a playful nip, then rubbed
his nose against his master's palm.

At that moment Lord Darby dashed up, his horse blown, its sides bloody
with rowelling and flecked with foam.

"Thank God, Countess," he exclaimed, "you are not injured."

"Not so much as scratched, thanks to Sir Aymer de Lacy."

"Aye, Sir Aymer, it was cleverly done," said Darby; "a neater rescue
methinks I never saw."

De Lacy bowed. "Whatever credit there may be, belongs solely to
Selim," he said. "But for his speed and intelligence I had never
reached the Countess." Then he led the black forward. "And he asks
the honor of carrying her back to Pontefract."

"Not so," Darby interrupted; "that is my privilege," and he swung his
own horse around.

The Countess was struggling with her hat.

"But Wilda," she protested.

"Is at the castle now, if she made the hill in safety," said Dacre,
watching the scene with the glint of a sm