Clearly it was their duty to stop him. The girl would most certainly break her neck if thrown at that rate of progress. Their plans were formed after a second’s deliberation. As the horse neared them, coming like the wind, with clods of earth torn up by his heels flying in the rear, Lord Carthew sprang into the open, waving the animal back, and in the moment’s pause of alarm, Hilary dashed forward and seized the reins, hanging on to them with all his weight. Snorting, and quivering in every limb, the horse at length came to a standstill, and looked with wide-open, bloodshot eyes at his captor. He for his part had his gaze fixed upon the rider. For a moment she stared down at his face, which was not so very far below her own, without speaking. Her great clear eyes were distended, like those of her horse, and in the twilight her face seemed to wear an unearthly pallor. His hand was still upon her bridle. She withdrew her eyes from his, and asked, petulantly: “Why did you stop my horse?” “He was running away with you.” She laughed disdainfully as she repeated! “Running away--with _me_!” “I heard you scream.” “Yes. Because I was enjoying myself.” “No one ought to ride at such a pace as that,” he said, coolly, still with his brown eyes fixed upon hers. “It is dangerous.” “Not to me. And who are you, and what right have you to lecture me? Take your hand off my bridle, and let me go.” As she spoke she gave a sharp cut with her whip on her horse’s shoulder. The animal reared and plunged, and simultaneously the clear, sharp “ping” of a shot rang through the silent woods. Hilary’s hand dropped from the bridle, and a short exclamation of pain escaped his lips as his arm dropped by his side. Through the sleeve of his shooting-coat near the shoulder the blood oozed out, and began rapidly pouring down his arm. Lord Carthew sprang to his assistance. “I am shot,” Hilary said. “It serves me right for interfering with a woman. Carthew, let’s get out of this.” The girl, whose horse had dashed on ahead as soon as Hilary’s restraining hand was withdrawn, returned now, and uttered a little cry of horror as she saw that Hilary was wounded. “How did it happen?” she asked breathlessly. “Some one in the woods over there shot him in the shoulder as he was holding your horse,” returned Lord Carthew. “I must get him to the nearest inn as soon as possible.” “No,” she exclaimed, impulsively. “Look how the blood is pouring from his shoulder! It is all my fault. We have a doctor staying in the house. Your friend must be taken home.” “Home! Where?” “To the Chase. I am Miss Cranstoun.”