They set off at an easy gallop, and White Eagle took the fence well enough, though it was his first, and he was no colt, like the black. Then they circled round and round the meadow, sometimes neck and neck, sometimes one far in advance. Generally it was Peggy, for the black was far the swifter animal of the two; but now and then she pulled him in, like the good-natured girl she was, and let her cousin gallop ahead. Margaret watched them with delight, not a pang of envy disturbing her enjoyment. What a perfect thing it was! how enchanting to be one with your horse, and feel his strong being added to your own! How-- But what was this? All in a minute, something happened. The black put his foot in a hole,--a woodchuck's burrow,--stumbled, pitched forward, and threw Peggy heavily to the ground. He recovered himself in a moment, and stood trembling; but Peggy lay still. Margaret was at her side in an instant. The child had struck her head on a stone, and was insensible, and bleeding profusely from a cut on the left temple. Rita dismounted and came near. "Some water, please!" said Margaret. "Bring water quickly, Rita, while I stop the bleeding. And give me your handkerchief, will you, before you go?" She held out one hand, which was already covered with blood; glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and trembling violently. "What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,--ill? hold her, then, and I will run." "No,--no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is--the blood! I cannot bear the sight. I will go--I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It is too terrible!" "Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently. "She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had some water, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!" Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought, yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steady hand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same moment Margaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blue eyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,--was Peggy giggling, even before she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously, afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and it was Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and--yes! undoubtedly laughing. "Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but with perfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I have come; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But--I say, Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I was dead?" "Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those people who faint at the sight of blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind you a bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!" "Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes. But--I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose--the rest of them--feel the same way about blood? because--"