There was something familiar now about the fellow's size, and something in the turn of his head.

Suddenly she rode out, crying: "Wilbur!" He swerved, saw the white horse, threw up his hands high above his head, and went backward, reeling, with a hoarse scream which Jacqueline would never forget.

She galloped to him and swung to the ground.
"It's me--Jack.

D'you hear ?" He would not lower those arms, and his eyes stared wildly at her.

On his forehead the blood had caked over a cut; his shirt was torn to rags, and the hair matted over his eyes.