Whether the people with the chaise heard the cry or not, they appeared to take the alarm at that moment.  He heard a whip crack, the carriage bound forward, the horses break into a reckless canter.  But if they recked little he recked less; already he was plunging down the hill after them, his beast almost pitching on its head with every stride.  The huntsman knows, however, that many stumbles go to a fall.  The bottom was gained in safety by both, and across the flat they went, the chaise bounding and rattling behind the scared horses.  Now Sir George had a glimpse of the black mass through the gloom, now it seemed to be gaining on him, now it was gone, and now again he drew up to it and the dim outline bulked bigger and plainer, and bigger and plainer, until he was close upon it, and the cracking whips and the shouts of the postboys rose above the din of hoofs and wheels.  The carriage was swaying perilously, but Sir George saw that the ground was rising, and that up the hill he must win; and, taking his horse by the head, he lifted it on by sheer strength until his stirrup was abreast of the hind wheels.  A moment, and he made out the bobbing figure of the leading postboy, and, drawing his pistol, cried to him to stop.

The answer was a blinding flash of light and a shot.  Sir George’s horse swerved to the right, and plunging headlong into the ditch, flung its rider six paces over its head.

The servant and Mr. Dunborough were no more than forty yards behind him when he fell; in five seconds the man had sprung from his saddle, let his horse go, and was at his master’s side.  There were trees there, and the darkness in the shadow, where Sir George lay across the roots of one of them, was intense.  The man could not see his face, nor how he lay, nor if he was injured; and calling and getting no answer, he took fright and cried to Mr. Dunborough to get help.

But Mr. Dunborough had ridden straight on without pausing or drawing rein, and the man, finding himself deserted, wrung his hands in terror.  He had only Mr. Fishwick to look to for help, and he was some way behind.  Trembling, the servant knelt and groped for his master’s face; to his joy, before he had found it, Sir George gasped, moved, and sat up; and, muttering an incoherent word or two, in a minute had recovered himself sufficiently to rise with help.  He had fallen clear of the horse on the edge of the ditch, and the shock had taken his breath; otherwise he was rather shaken than hurt.

As soon as his wits and wind came back to him, ’Why—­why have you not followed?’ he gasped.

‘’Twill be all right, sir.  All right, sir,’ the servant answered, thinking only of him.

‘But after them, man, after them.  Where is Fishwick?’

‘Coming, sir, he is coming,’ the man answered, to soothe him; and remained where he was.  Sir George was so shaken that he could not yet stand alone, and the servant did not know what to think.  ’Are you sure you are not hurt, sir?’ he continued anxiously.