The Brook 



through, and Striving, his trousers flapping at 

 his ankles, rode straight past the girl with the gray. 



*'You came," he heard her whisper, "I'm so 

 glad. I thought for a moment you — " 



"You thought," he grinned, "I could only ride, 

 — on a train." 



The girl nodded and flushed, and Striving felt 

 like a brute. But there was no time now to talk; 

 the hounds were two fields away and running 

 abreast high scent. Striving thought it the pretti- 

 est music he had heard in years. They were all 

 riding hard at a stiff board fence and each was 

 choosing his panel. The brown mare took it 

 almost in her stride, but the gray flashed past her 

 in the air, and Striving was sure he heard a rippling 

 laugh. She was ahead of him now and he felt a 

 wonderful pleasure in watching the wind as it 

 whipped at her hair and the way she sat her horse. 



He recalled landmarks here and there that he 

 had seen from the train and he knew they were 

 coming soon to the lane. He jabbed the brown 

 mare with his heels and galloped close to the 

 gray. The girl's face was pink, their eyes met 

 and this time she did not laugh. 



"Oh," she begged, "I was only joking, — be 

 careful. Please follow me, this is all new country 

 to you." But Striving threw back his head and 



73 



