He scarcely waited to get within the gates of the Park before he gathered himself together and went like the wind.

His rider lay forward in the saddle and yelled encouragement like a wild Indian.

Caesar raced behind them like a hare.
The mad trio went like a flash past old Marshall the head-keeper who stood gun on shoulder at the gate of his lodge and looked after them with stern disapproval.
"Drat the boy! What's he want to ride hell-for-leather like that for ?" he grumbled.

"He'll go and kill himself one of these days as his father did before him." It was just twenty-five years since Piers' father had been carried dead into Marshall's cottage, and Marshall had stumped up the long avenue to bear the news to Sir Beverley.

Piers was about the same age now as that other Piers had been, and Marshall had no mind to take part in a similar tragedy.