It was a dangerous leap, for the ground on both banks was yielding and slippery.  Avery stood transfixed to watch the result.

The horse made a great effort to obey his master’s behests.  It almost seemed as if he were furious too, Avery thought, as he pounded forward to clear the obstacle.  His leap was superb, clearing the stream by a good six feet, but as he landed among the primroses disaster overtook him.  It must have been a rabbit-hole, Avery reflected later; for he blundered as he touched the ground, plunged forward, and fell headlong.

There followed a few moments of sickening confusion during which the horrified spectators had time to realize that Sir Beverley was pinned under the kicking animal; then with a savage effort the great brute rolled over and struggled to his feet.

With a promptitude that spoke well for his nerve, Julian sprang forward and caught the dangling bridle.  The creature tried to jib back upon his prostrate master, but he dragged him forward and held him fast.

Old Sir Beverley lay prone on the ground, in an awful stillness, with his white face turned to the sky.  His eyes were fast shut, his arms flung wide, one hand still grasping the whip which he had wielded so fiercely a few seconds before.

“Is he dead?” whispered Jeanie, clinging close to Avery.

Avery gently released herself and moved forward.  “No, dear, no!  He—­he is only stunned.”

She knelt beside Sir Beverley, overcoming a horrible sensation of sickness as she did so.  The whole catastrophe had been of so sudden and so violent a nature that she felt almost stunned herself.

She slipped an arm under the old man’s head, and it hung upon her like a leaden weight.

“Oh, Avery, how dreadful!” exclaimed Gracie, aghast.

“Take my handkerchief!” said Avery quickly.  “Run down and soak it in the stream!  Mind how you go!  It’s very steep.”

Gracie went like the wind.

Avery began with fingers that shook in spite of her utmost resolution, to try to loosen Sir Beverley’s collar.

“Let me!” said Ronald, gently.

She glanced up gratefully and relinquished the task to him.  Ronald was neat in all his ways.

The return of Gracie with the wet handkerchief gave her something to do, and she tenderly moistened the stark, white face.  But the children’s fears were crowding thick in her own heart.  That awful inertness looked so terribly like death.

And then suddenly the grim lips parted and a quivering sigh passed through them.

The next moment abruptly the grey eyes opened and gazed full at Avery with a wide, glassy stare.

“What the—­what the—­” stammered Sir Beverley, and broke off with a hard gasp.

Avery sought to raise him higher, but his weight was too much for her even with Ronald assisting.

“Find my—­flask!” jerked out Sir Beverley, with panting breath.