A party had been made up for an excursion into the Highlands, Miss Madison being one of the number.  She was a good pedestrian and rarely missed a chance for a ramble among the hills.  Scofield’s two rivals occasionally got astray with her in the perplexing wood-roads, but he never succeeded in securing such good-fortune.  On this occasion, as they approached a woodchopper’s cottage (or rather, hovel), there were sounds of acute distress within—­the piercing cries of a child evidently in great pain.  There was a moment of hesitancy in the party, and then Miss Madison’s graceful indifference vanished utterly.  As she ran hastily to the cabin, Scofield felt that now probably was a chance for more than mere observation, and he kept beside her.  An ugly cur sought to bar entrance; but his vigorous kick sent it howling away.  She gave him a quick pleased look as they entered.  A slatternly woman was trying to soothe a little boy, who at all her attempts only writhed and shrieked the more.  “I dunno what ails the young one,” she said.  “I found him a moment ago yellin’ at the foot of a tree.  Suthin’s the matter with his leg.”

“Yes,” cried Miss Madison, delicately feeling of the member—­an operation which, even under her gentle touch, caused increased outcry, “it is evidently broken.  Let me take him on my lap;” and Scofield saw that her face had softened into the tenderest pity.

“I will bring a surgeon at the earliest possible moment,” exclaimed Scofield, turning to go.

Again she gave him an approving glance which warmed his heart.  “The ice is broken between us now,” he thought, as he broke through the group gathering at the open door.

Never before had he made such time down a mountain, for he had a certain kind of consciousness that he was not only going after the doctor, but also after the girl.  Securing a stout horse and wagon at the hotel, he drove furiously for the surgeon, explained the urgency, and then, with the rural healer at his side, almost killed the horse in returning.

He found his two rivals at the cabin door, the rest of the party having gone on.  Miss Madison came out quickly.  An evanescent smile flitted across her face as she saw his kindled eyes and the reeking horse, which stood trembling and with bowed head.  His ardor was a little dampened when she went directly to the poor beast and said, “This horse is a rather severe indictment against you, Mr. Scofield.  There was need of haste, but—­” and she paused significantly.

“Yes,” added the doctor, springing out, “I never saw such driving!  It’s lucky our necks are not broken”

“You are all right, Doctor, and ready for your work,” Scofield remarked brusquely.  “As for the horse, I’ll soon bring him around;” and he rapidly began to unhitch the over-driven animal.

“What are you going to do?” Miss Madison asked curiously.

“Rub him into as good shape as when he started.”