"Let him go, Laura," cried Miss Bloxam; "the King, too, is fidgeting most uncomfortably. A good gallop will take the nonsense out of them." And with that the two girls quickened their pace, and, going on side by side, led the way at a fair hunting gallop. The first few fences were small, and as she sailed triumphantly over them, Sylla's pulses tingled, and she was fired with the spirit of emulation. Although she was some little distance behind, she resolved to catch and pass the leaders, and with that intent commenced bucketing her mare along in rather merciless fashion. In vain did Jim shout words of warning. She turned a deaf ear to them. Had he not recommended that she should keep the road? Did he think the art of crossing a country was known only to the maidens of Fernshire? She was determined to catch Blanche and her cousin, whatever her escort might urge to the contrary, and saw with infinite satisfaction that she was rapidly closing the gap between them. Jim Bloxam, galloping a little to her left, and watching her closely, has already come to the conclusion that wilful woman will have her fall, and only trusts it may not be serious. The mare Sylla was riding was a fairly good hunter, and if she would but have left her alone would have carried the girl safely over such obstacles as they had to encounter. But Jim noticed with dismay that Sylla had some indistinct idea of assisting her at her fences, the result of which could only be inevitable grief. The exhilaration of the trio in front, as attested by the wild shout sent back by Lionel Beauchamp as they cleared the first of those bigger fences previously mentioned, put Sylla's blood thoroughly up. Heedless of Jim's "For God's sake, take a pull!" she struck her mare sharply with the whip, and sent her at it as fast as she could lay legs to the ground. The consequence was the mare took off too soon, and the pair landed in the next field somewhat in a heap. Jim was over and off his horse in a minute, and at once came to the discomfited fair's assistance. It is seldom that a lady shows to advantage after a regular "crumpler," the story of Arabella Churchill notwithstanding; nor, for the matter of that, do men either look the better for the process. No real harm having been done, the ludicrous side of the situation generally presents itself; but Sylla was certainly an exception. Although her hat was broken, her habit woefully torn and mud-stained, nobody could have looked at her somewhat flushed face and flashing dark eyes without admitting that she was a very pretty girl even "in ruins." "No, thanks; I am not in the least hurt, Captain Bloxam," she replied, as Jim helped her to her feet; "but I could cry with vexation. I had set my heart upon catching those two; but now," she continued, with a comical little grimace, "I have got to first catch my mare."