"Go for the Squire! Oh, what shall we do?"

As if she knew exacty what was wanted of her, Lita went back the way
she had come, as Ben could see by the fresh, irregular tracks that cut
up the road where she had galloped for help. For a mile or more they
went, then she paused at a pair of bars which were let down to allow
the carts to pass into the wide hay-fields beyond. On she went again
cantering across the new-mown turf toward a brook, across which she
had evidently taken a leap before; for, on the further side, at a
place where cattle went to drink, the mud showed signs of a fall.

"You were a fool to try there, but where is Miss Celia?" said Ben,
who talked to animals as if they were people, and was understood much
better than any one not used to their companionship would imagine.

Now Lita seemed at a loss, and put her head down as if she expected to
find her mistress where she had left her, somewhere on the ground.
Ben called, but there was no answer, and he rode slowly along the
brook-side, looking far and wide with anxious eyes.

"May be she wasn't hurt, and has gone to that house to wait," thought
the boy, pausing for a last survey of the great, sunny field, which
had no place of shelter in it but one rock on the other side of the
little stream. As his eye wandered over it, something dark seemed
to blow out from behind it, as if the wind played in the folds of a
skirt, or a human limb moved. Away went Lita, and in a moment Ben
had found Miss Celia, lying in the shadow of the rock, so white and
motionless he feared that she was dead. He leaped down, touched her,
spoke to her, and receiving no answer, rushed away to bring a little
water in his leaky hat to sprinkle in her face, as he had seen them