There is always a hurdle six feet long and four and a half in depth, swung by a chain at either end from an oak laid across the channel.  And the use of this hurdle is to keep our kine at milking time from straying away there drinking (for in truth they are very dainty) and to fence strange cattle, or Farmer Snowe’s horses, from coming along the bed of the brook unknown, to steal our substance.  But now this hurdle, which hung in the summer a foot above the trickle, would have been dipped more than two feet deep but for the power against it.  For the torrent came down so vehemently that the chains at full stretch were creaking, and the hurdle buffeted almost flat, and thatched (so to say) with the drift-stuff, was going see-saw, with a sulky splash on the dirty red comb of the waters.  But saddest to see was between two bars, where a fog was of rushes, and flood-wood, and wild-celery haulm, and dead crowsfoot, who but our venerable mallard jammed in by the joint of his shoulder, speaking aloud as he rose and fell, with his top-knot full of water, unable to comprehend it, with his tail washed far away from him, but often compelled to be silent, being ducked very harshly against his will by the choking fall-to of the hurdle.

For a moment I could not help laughing, because, being borne up high and dry by a tumult of the torrent, he gave me a look from his one little eye (having lost one in fight with the turkey-cock), a gaze of appealing sorrow, and then a loud quack to second it.  But the quack came out of time, I suppose, for his throat got filled with water, as the hurdle carried him back again.  And then there was scarcely the screw of his tail to be seen until he swung up again, and left small doubt by the way he sputtered, and failed to quack, and hung down his poor crest, but what he must drown in another minute, and frogs triumph over his body.

Annie was crying, and wringing her hands, and I was about to rush into the water, although I liked not the look of it, but hoped to hold on by the hurdle, when a man on horseback came suddenly round the corner of the great ash-hedge on the other side of the stream, and his horse’s feet were in the water.

“Ho, there,” he cried; “get thee back, boy.  The flood will carry thee down like a straw.  I will do it for thee, and no trouble.”

[Illustration:  079.jpg A Brave Rescue]

With that he leaned forward, and spoke to his mare—­she was just of the tint of a strawberry, a young thing, very beautiful—­and she arched up her neck, as misliking the job; yet, trusting him, would attempt it.  She entered the flood, with her dainty fore-legs sloped further and further in front of her, and her delicate ears pricked forward, and the size of her great eyes increasing, but he kept her straight in the turbid rush, by the pressure of his knee on her.  Then she looked back, and wondered at him, as the force of the torrent grew stronger, but he bade her go on; and on she went, and it foamed up over her