The Runaways by Nat Gould (best way to read an ebook .txt) 📖

this pace.

They were nearing Glen church, and beyond, in the distance, was Hazelwell Coppice, the house being hidden amongst the trees a couple of miles away.

Ulick took in the well-remembered scene at a glance. He called to mind how he had galloped over this country with the Squire and Irene, and how they had found it a difficult task to keep up with his father. He wished Irene was there now, so that he could give her a lead over that big, stiff-set hedge a hundred yards ahead of him. He forgot all about Warren on the grey. There were the hounds scrambling through the bars of the gate, dashing through the holes in the hedge near the bank. Once he caught sight of the fox streaking along with his tail straight out, his head down, and his body almost level with the ground.

"He's not half done yet," thought Ulick. "He deserves to get away, and I hope he will save his brush."

The fox meant doing so if possible, there could be no doubt about that.

Round Glen church was a high, rough stone wall, built in the old style, stone piled upon stone, not bound together in any way, except by the pressure of one upon another. The coping on the top was loose, and in places big stones had rolled off on to the grass, for the church stood in a field, and was approached by a footpath.

The fox seemed of a pious turn of mind, for he headed straight for the church, as though hoping to find sanctuary there from his desperate pursuers.

Ulick expected to see him run round the churchyard, but instead of that he scrambled up the wall and made his way amongst the tombstones and over the graves of men who had hunted his ancestors in years gone by.

"If you think I am going to follow you over there you are mistaken," said Ulick. "I have no desire to join the silent residents in that locality. I'll ride round and catch you up on the other side, it is not far out of the way."

He watched the hounds scrambling over the rough wall, which stood on a rise on the ground, and saw from their movements they were well-nigh beaten.

Warren Courtly was not far behind. He saw Ulick check his mount, and then make for the corner of the churchyard. He was near enough to be heard, if he shouted, and he called out—

"Follow me over the wall, if you have pluck enough; don't sneak round that way."

CHAPTER XIX. A FATAL LEAP.

Ulick heard him, and, turning round, saw the grey galloping at a great pace straight for the churchyard wall. He did not accept the challenge; it would have been madness to do so. He called at the top of his voice to Warren to stop.

"He'll never clear it! Pull up!" shouted Ulick, excitedly.

For answer, Warren merely looked in his direction, and smiled grimly.

"Come on!" he shouted again. "Are you afraid?"

Ulick was not afraid, but he had no desire to break his neck, and that was probably what Warren would do if the grey failed to top the wall. There was no chance of stopping him, and Ulick determined to see the result of the dare-devil leap.

"He's mad to attempt it!" he said. "The horse is a good one, but he'll never get over it. I would not risk it on Random for a fortune!"

There was no one else near; the four or five horsemen had skirted round the wall, and were riding hard after the hounds, who had by this time cleared the churchyard.

Ulick waited for Warren's rash leap, and his heart almost stopped beating in his intense anxiety to see him safely over.

The presentiment of the morning flashed across his mind, and he wondered if this was to be the result.

Warren knew what lay before him; but his blood was up, and so was the grey's. The horse pricked his ears as he saw the formidable obstacle in front of him, but he did not shirk his work. On the contrary, he regulated his stride, and prepared for the desperate leap.

As Warren drew near to the wall Ulick rode forward, in order to render assistance should it be required, for he feared the result, and wished to do all in his power to help him.

Up the incline galloped the grey. Had the wall stood on the level he might have jumped it, although that was doubtful. The horse took off well, rose at the wall, and would have cleared it safely but for the fact that a huge raised gravestone, over a vault in the churchyard, stood close beneath it.

The horse saw it, tried to avoid it as he leaped, caught his hind legs on the wall, fell heavily forward, and threw Warren with terrific force head first on to the slab.

Ulick heard the crash and shuddered. Horse and rider failed to rise. He rode quickly to the spot, flung Random's bridle over a big coping stone, and scrambled over the wall, almost falling over the horse as he landed on the other side. He merely cast a rapid glance at the grey, and saw he was fatally injured, and rushed forward to Warren Courtly, who lay stretched out on the top of the slab where he had fallen.

Ulick stooped over him, and said, in an agitated voice—

"Warren! Warren! are you alive? Speak to me!"

There was no answer, no movement in the body, which lay dangerously still and inanimate.

Ulick tore open his vest and collar, and lifted him up. As he did so the head fell back, resting on his chest, and for a moment the eyes opened with the shock, but quickly closed again.

Ulick shuddered. That limp movement of the head, he knew what it meant. There was no hope. Warren's neck was broken. He had pitched on to his head, and the fall was bound to be fatal. He supported the dead man for a considerable time, hoping against hope that he would show some sign of life. His thoughts wandered to Irene, and he wondered how she would bear the shock. He must break it to her as gently as possible. She must hear it from no one but himself. He was of no use here. Warren was beyond human aid. He laid the body gently down, and covered the face with a handkerchief; it looked weird and uncanny, resting there in the scarlet coat on the top of a vault, in the picturesque old churchyard.

Getting over the wall, he remounted Random and rode away for assistance.

There was no one in sight. Then he espied two figures in the distance walking towards him; one was his father, the other Irene. They saw him, and his father waved his stick. There was no excuse; he had to pull up and meet them.

He was bewildered, at a loss what to do, what to say; and as he thought of Warren lying still in the churchyard he shuddered, and was almost tempted to make a bolt.

"You are not often out of the hunt," said the Squire. "Irene let the cat out of the bag, and told me you were here, and that Eli had borrowed Random for you. I am glad to see you out with the hounds again, but you ought to have come to breakfast."

"Have you had a fall, or missed the hounds?" asked Irene. "I am afraid I have taught Random bad manners. Have you seen Warren?"

He made no answer, but looked vacantly before him, and she said, anxiously, as she noticed the green moss from the stone on his coat—

"Have you hurt yourself? You look as though you have had a fall."

"I have not had a fall," he said, in a voice strangely unlike his own.

The Squire was quick at reading faces, and knew something had happened. Did it concern Irene? Had Warren been injured? He took her by the arm and said—

"Come, let us go home; and, as Ulick has missed the hounds, he can come with us."

Irene hesitated. She felt Ulick was concealing something, either from her or his father. What was it? Had anything happened to her husband?

She stepped forward before he dismounted, placing her hand on Random's neck, and, looking up into his face, said, quickly—

"Something has happened; I can see it in your face. There has been an accident. Is it Warren?"

He avoided her gaze. How could he tell her, and the churchyard where he lay quite close by?

The Squire saw there was serious news, and said, as cheerfully as possible—

"Has Warren had a spill? I hope it is not serious."

"Yes, he had a bad fall. I have just left him. I was riding for assistance when I met you."

Irene turned white, and the Squire supported her.

"Where is he?" she said. "Let me go to him."

Ulick dismounted and said—

"You must be brave, Irene! Warren has had a very bad fall."

"Where is he?" she asked again.

"He attempted to leap the churchyard wall and follow the hounds. It is a dangerous jump, and the horse fell, throwing him heavily."

"Then why do you delay? Ride for assistance at once! We will go to him," she said, and started off at a rapid pace in the direction of Glen church.

This was Ulick's opportunity. He stepped up to his father, and said—

"Do what you can to comfort her. He's in the churchyard, lying on Harewood's vault. I am better away."

"He is not——?" asked the Squire, and paused.

Ulick nodded. "He fell on his head on the slab and broke his neck. Now go after her."

"Call out to her to stop; I can hardly limp along," said the Squire.

"Irene!" called Ulick.

She turned round, and he pointed to his father.

She came hurriedly back, and said—

"Take my arm—we will go together."

Ulick mounted Random and rode rapidly away to Hazelwell, where he ordered a carriage and the requisite necessaries to be sent to the church, and dispatched a man for the doctor.

Meanwhile the Squire and Irene were nearing Glen church.

"Irene," he said, in a low voice, "Ulick has told me Warren is very badly injured; you must be prepared for the worst."

She looked at him with frightened eyes.

"Prepared for the worst!" she muttered. "Is his life in danger?"

"I am afraid so."

She gave a little sharp cry, and hurried forward again.

"You had better remain with me," he called, and she obeyed him without a murmur.

They reached the churchyard, and passed under the porch through the gateway, and at the far side, near the wall, the Squire saw a red coat on a tombstone; then he distinguished the form of a man. Irene had not seen it, and he led her down a side path.

"Be brave, Irene!" he said. "If he is in danger you will have to summon up all your courage to help him."

"I will," she said; "indeed I will."

Then she saw the red coat, and started back, her hand pressed against her heart, her eyes filled with horror.

"He is lying on the stone on the top of a vault," she said, in a hollow voice. "How did he get there?"

She stumbled forward over the graves, leaving the Squire to follow. She grazed her ankles, but heeded not, and at last she reached him.

Snatching the handkerchief away, she