He rapidly completed his toilet, ordered his horse, and set off hot foot.
Of course, all the short cuts came in requisition.

The path through Brithlow Wood was the path he took, going at full gallop.

Lost in a deliciously hopeful reverie, he was half-way through, when a hollow groan from the wayside smote his ear.
"For God's sake, help a dying man!" The baronet stared around aghast.

Right before him, under the trees, lay the prostrate figure of a fallen man.

To leap off his horse, to bend over him, was but the work of an instant.