something wrong in the valley below, he turned the horse and came down
the hill-side at a pace which made Stafford, hard and fearless rider as
he was, open his eyes.

It seemed to him impossible that the horse could avoid a false step or
a slip, and such a false step he knew would send steed and rider
hurtling down to something that could be very little short of instant
death. He forgot all about the big trout in the pool, and stood with
his fly drifting aimlessly in the water, watching with something like
breathless interest this, the most daring piece of horsemanship he had
ever witnessed; and he had ridden side by side with the best
steeplechaser of the day, and had watched a crack Hungarian cavalry
corps at its manoeuvres; which last is about the top notch of the
horse-riding business.

But the big horse did not falter for a moment; down it came at a hard
gallop, and Stafford's admiration was swallowed up in amazement when he
saw that the rider was a young girl, that she was riding with about
half an ounce on the reins, and that, apparently, she was as much at
ease and unconscious of danger as if she were trotting on a tame hack
in Rotten Row.

As she came nearer, admiration romped in ahead of amazement, for the
girl was a young one--she looked like the average school-girl--and had
one of the most beautiful faces Stafford had ever seen. She was dark,
but the cheek that was swept by the long lashes was colourless with
that exquisite and healthy pallor which one sees in the women of
Northern Spain. Her hair was black but soft and silky, and the wind
blew it in soft tendrils, now across her brow and now in dazzling
strands about the soft felt hat which sat in graceful negligence upon