Once James's horse stumbled in the darkness and its rider was thrown; more than once a low bough hanging over the path nearly swept me, dead or stunned, from my seat.

Sapt paid no attention to these mishaps or threatened mishaps.

He had taken the lead, and, sitting well down in his saddle, rode ahead, turning neither to right nor left, never slackening his pace, sparing neither himself nor his beast.

James and I were side by side behind him.
We rode in silence, finding nothing to say to one another.

My mind was full of a picture--the picture of Rupert with his easy smile handing to the king the queen's letter.