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verse as poetic imagery only, now it was more than that. She knew that if this dreadful animal reached her she was doomed. Yet what hope had she of escape? None! The fence was twenty yards away at least. The galloping pounding hoofs were close behind her. Then in a second a miracle happened!

There was a sound like the crack of a rifle, and over the wire fence ahead there came, sailing like a bird, another horse, but this, not riderless. Sharp and quick came the ringing reports of the cracking stock-whip; the galloping hoofs behind her had slackened their pace. Now they were off again, but in retreat.

Ann, realizing that she was still alive, sat down suddenly on a twisted ankle.

After a second Rodney Marsh galloped up to her.

“You little fool!” he shouted furiously. “What made you come in here?”

Ann, looking up at him, fumbling desperately at the back of her mind for an adequately abusive retort, suddenly burst into tears. Oh, how she hated herself for those weak tears! But her ankle was very painful, and after all, when you’ve just come back from the gates of death, to be shouted at and called a little fool, is very difficult to bear. Besides, she knew she was a little fool! That made it worse.

Marsh dismounted, and came close beside her. The sight of her tears had rather nonplussed him. He remained scowling down at her—undecided what to do.

In a moment Ann regained her self-control.

“I didn’t know he’d rush at me in that horrible way,” she said. “I’ve never seen a horse behave like that before.”