The fox, close cornered, had taken to the fence rails to throw the dogs off its scent and then, seeing her, he had leaped across the road. She sprang to the fence; far over in the field beyond the dogs were running aimlessly about. She climbed up, standing sharply silhouetted on the high fence of chestnut rails, and waved her hand frantically. Some one saw her, understood, came pounding that way, others at his heels, calling the dogs sharply. Frances sprang on Starlight's back and went crashing through the woods. A dog sped by her, another. She heard a rider close behind, but she was still ahead; and then she and the dogs pulled up short before a narrow stream and a wall of tangled vine-clad rocks on the other side. They had run the fox to earth, but he was safe. Even then she was glad. The dogs were baying like mad about her, Starlight was in a lather of foam and breathing heavily, the loosened tendrils of her hair whipped against her scarlet cheek, her eyes were gleams of fire. "First, _first_!" she cried, as the rider she had heard broke through the woods. It was Lawson. IV Lawson rode with Frances home. The whole field followed. Never had he seen a madder frolic. For many a beast and many a rider crowding the country road, the noon sun shining down on them hotly, he had learned a wholesome respect. Some stiff jumping and hot riding he had seen on those rough mountain fields, and he was inordinately proud of himself for so holding his own and proud of the spirit of the girl by whose side he rode. They went straight to the stables. Mr. Carver stood speechless at the remnant of the turnout he had sent to the professor's home early in the morning. "Mr. Carver," announced Frances coolly, as she slipped from Starlight's back, "the trap is up the road, just this side of the fork. I wish you would send for it." "What's the matter?" "One wheel missing, that's all," as if that were a slight affair. "And Mr. Carver," coaxingly, "just have it fixed as soon as you can, and don't say too much about it. It's not a bad break, just one wheel!" "Bless my soul!" Mr. Carver, with an innate love of beauty, gazed admiringly at flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, "Of course, of course! Come into the office; let me brush your dress for you, it will never do to go home that way." The cloth skirt was covered with long black hairs from the rug. "Starlight run away?" he asked, as they stood in the little office, while he was busily whisking her skirt. "Oh, no!" Frances was looking through the open door at Lawson as he went down the stable aisle, his horse's bridle across his arm. He was walking with quick, confident step, shoulders well back, head carried high. She watched him out of sight. "How did it happen?" asked Mr. Carver. Frances told it as briefly as she could, winding up with her triumphant boast, "But I was first at the finish." "Good Lord!" laughed her delighted listener. "What will your father say?"