Before Sir Everard could retort, the cry of “Here they come!” proclaimed the arrival of the hounds.

The hounds were put into the gorse, and the red-coats began to move out of the field into the lane, Sir Everard and Lady Louise with them.

A loud “Halloo!” rang through the air; the hounds came with a rushing roar over a fence.

“There he is!” cried a chorus of voices, as the fox flew over the ground.

And at the same instant Whirlwind tore by like its namesake, with the handsome girl upright as a dart.  Away went Sir Galahad, side by side with the roan.  Lady Louise and her sedate nag were left hopelessly behind.

On and on like the wind Whirlwind flew the fences, and Miss Hunsden sat in her saddle like a queen on her throne.

The young baronet, even in the fierce heat of the hunt, could see the beautiful glowing face, the flashing gray eyes, and the lances of light flickering in the gold-brown hair.  Side by side Sir Galahad and Whirlwind darted to the end of the fourth inclosure.

Then came a change—­a wall of black, heavy thorn rose ahead, which no one was mad enough to face.

The baronet pulled his bay violently to the right and looked to see the dashing huntress follow.  But, no; the blood of Miss Hunsden and the “red-roan steed” was up, and straight they went at that awful pace.

“For God’s sake, Miss Hunsden!” cried the voice of Lord Ernest Strathmore, “don’t try that!”

But he might as well have spoken to the cataract of Niagara.  With a tremendous rush Whirlwind charged the place.  There was a horrible crash—­another—­and a plunge downward.

Sir Everard turned sick with horror; but Whirlwind settled into his stride, and the girl recovered her balance in the very instant, and away again like the wind.

“Splendidly done, by Jove!” cried Lord Ernest.  “I never saw a lady ride before like that in all my life.”

Sir Everard dashed on.  His horse was on his mettle; but, do what he would, the slender, girlish figure, and superb roan kept ahead.  Whirlwind took hedges and ditches before him, disdaining to turn to the right or left, and after a sharp run of an hour, Miss Hunsden had the glory and happiness of being one of the few up at the finish in time to see the fox, quite dead, held over the huntsman’s head, with the hounds hanging expectant around.

Every eye turned upon the heroine of the hour, and loud were the canticles chanted in her honor.  The master of the hounds himself rode up, all aglow with admiration.

“Miss Hunsden,” he said, “I never in all my life saw a lady ride as you rode to-day.  There are not half a dozen men in Devonshire who would have faced those fences as you did.  I sincerely hope you will frequently honor our field by your presence and matchless riding.”

Miss Hunsden bowed easily and smiled.

And then her father came up, his soldierly old face aglow.