great confusion, he rode up to Mrs. Shortridge, and asked, "Where are
they going now?"

"I scarcely know," she answered; "but Colonel L'Isle will take care of
Lady Mabel, so you can stay and take care of me."

Moodie cast on her a look of angry suspicion, which scanned her from
head to foot, and plainly pronounced her no sufficient pledge for his
mistress. Spurring his horse, he followed Lady Mabel at a run. The
animal he rode had often carried fifteen stone, in Lord Strathern's
person, over as rough ground as this, and made light of Moodie's
weight, which was scarcely more than nine. Without picking his way, he
made directly for his companions ahead; and the clatter of his hoofs
soon making Lady Mabel look round, she drew up her horse in haste, and
anxiously watched Moodie's career. A deep chasm, washed out by the
winter rains, was cleared by the horse in capital style, but Moodie
lit on his valise, and with difficulty recovered the saddle. Just
between him and Lady Mabel the last tree on the hill-side, torn from
the shallow soil by some heavy blast, lay horizontally on its decaying
roots and branches. Moodie rode at it with unquailing eye; and, while
Lady Mabel uttered an exclamation of alarm, the horse cleared it in a
bucking leap, throwing Moodie against the holsters; but he fell back
into his seat, and rode up triumphantly to his mistress. This
energetic demonstration seemed to overawe Lady Mabel. Turning from the
hill-top before them, she rode demurely back to the party, resolved
not to wander from the beaten path, or go faster than a foot-pace,
until Moodie had dismounted, and his neck was safe.

A peasant on an ass, coming down the road, had stopped and stood at
gaze at a distance, watching these equestrian manoeuvres. But when he