He points them at a grunter, which plunges through the farmyard.

He points down the road, over which he has just galloped, and towards which the woolly heads again turn.

He says again, "Comin', mas'r.

Everybody a-comin'." And now, the gallop of other horses is heard.

And who is yonder?
Little Mr.Dempster, spurring and digging into his pony; and that lady in a riding-habit on Madam Esmond's little horse, can it be Madam Esmond?
No.
It is too stout.