80 THE SILVER FOX 



his mare's white pastern pink with blood. 

 Lady Susan's big bay had lost a fore shoe. 

 Lady Susan's face was an unbecoming, dif- 

 fused pink ; the rain beaded her dark eye- 

 brows and ran down her well-shaped nose ; 

 her hunting cravat might as well have been 

 a wet dishclout. Under the circumstances, 

 perhaps, the epithets which she was apply- 

 ing to the weather and the country were 

 excusable. 



" What can have become of Hughie ? " 

 she said for the twentieth time, bending her 

 head to let the water run out of the brim 

 of her hat; ** I don't remember seeing him 

 since that place where the cow ran after us." 



" Clinkin' good fencer she was too," said 

 Major Bunbury, " she went two fields with 

 us. Upon my soul, I don't know what 

 happened to Hughie. I'd quite enough to 

 do to look out for myself." 



" I hope he's all right," said Lady Susan, 

 easily, **that horse wasn't going very kindly 

 with him." 



"Oh, he's all right. Probably he's done 



