Dudley's color rose. "I'm not afraid of our courage," he said, boldly,
"but of our ponies: they have never been accustomed to it."

"Then they can learn to-night. Now then, there's plenty of room for us
both abreast. One--two--three--off! Hurrah for the Bertrams!"

The ponies were fresh, the hedge was cleared; but as old Ben was in the
act of waving his cap aloft to give a cheer--there was a crash--a sharp
cry--and a sickening thud the other side of the hedge. And when the old
groom with beating heart and trembling limbs, reached the farther bank,
Roy and his horse were prostrate on the ground. Dudley had cleared it
safely, and now having flung himself from his horse was leaning over Roy
in agony of terror.

"He's dead, Ben--he's dead--his pony rolled over him--oh, fetch a
doctor, quick!"

Ben took the unconscious little figure in his arms, with a heavy groan;
and Dudley tore on to the house almost frantic with fright.

Every one was in confusion at once, but it was Rob who tore off for the
doctor, and brought him in an incredibly short time, considering that he
lived three miles away.

To Dudley, listening outside the bedroom door, it seemed years before
the doctor came out, and when he did, he was too overcome to speak to
him. But seeing the white unnerved face of the boy, Doctor Grant put his
hand kindly on his shoulder.