By and by, however, a couple of whip-cracks rose from beyond a dip of the
road and were followed by a shout in a woman's voice and a sharp clatter
of iron on stone.

"Oh!" cried Mabel, when they reached the brow of the descent, "the poor
thing can't get up! What a shame to give it such a load!"

The road fell sharply between ragged hedgerows, and near the foot of the
hill a pony was struggling vainly to move a cart. The vehicle was heavily
loaded, and while the animal strained and floundered, a woman struck it
with a whip.

"Its Mrs. Hoggarth; her husband's the carrier," Mabel explained. "Come
on! We must stop her! She mustn't beat the pony like that!"

Vane strode down the hill, and when they approached the cart Mabel called
indignantly to the woman.

"Stop! You oughtn't to do that! The load's too heavy! Where's Hoggarth?"

Vane seized one rein close up to the bit and turned the pony until
the cart was across the road. When he had done so, the woman looked
around at Mabel.

"Wheel went over his foot last night. He canna get on his boot. I'm none
fond of beating pony, but bank's steep and we mun gan up. The folks mun
have their things."

Vane glanced at the pony, which stood with lowered head and heaving
flank. It was evident that the animal could do no more.