and clang of hoofs. "Good God!" he exclaimed, and forgetting everything else, sprung from the bed and ran to the window outside his door. The light of their lanterns dimly showed a confused crowd in the yard of the mews, and amid the hellish uproar of their coarse voices he could hear Kelpie plunging and kicking. Again she uttered the same ringing scream. He threw the window open and cried to her that he was coming, but the noise was far too great for his enfeebled voice. Hurriedly he added a garment or two to his half-dress, rushed to the stair, passing his new friend, who watched anxiously at the head of it, without seeing her, and shot from the house.
CHAPTER L.
THE DEMONESS AT BAY.
When he reached the yard of the mews the uproar had nothing abated. But when he cried out to Kelpie, through it all came a whinny of appeal, instantly followed by a scream. When he got up to the lanterns he found a group of wrathful men with stable-forks surrounding the poor animal, from whom the blood was streaming before and behind. Fierce as she was, she dared not move, but stood trembling, with the sweat of terror pouring from her. Yet her eye showed that not even terror had cowed her. She was but biding her time. Her master's first impulse was to scatter the men right and left, but on second thoughts, of which he was even then capable, he saw that they might have been driven to apparent brutality in defence of their lives, and besides, he could not tell what Kelpie might do if suddenly released. So he caught her by the broken halter and told them to fall back. They did so, carefully — it seemed unwillingly. But the mare had eyes and ears only for her master. What she had never done before, she nosed him over face and shoulders, trembling all the time. Suddenly one of her tormentors darted forward and gave her a terrible prod in the off hind-quarter. But he paid dearly for it. Ere he could draw back she lashed out and shot him half across the yard with his knee-joint broken. The whole set of them rushed at her.
"Leave her alone," shouted Malcolm, "or I will take her part. Between us we'll do for a dozen of you."
"The devil's in her," said one of them.
"You'll find more of him in that rascal groaning yonder. You had better see to him. He'll never do such a thing again, I fancy. Where is Merton?"
They drew off and went to help their comrade, who lay senseless.
When Malcolm would have led Kelpie in, she stopped suddenly at the stable-door, and started back shuddering as if the memory of what she had endured there overcame her. Every fibre of her trembled. He saw that she must have been pitifully used before she broke loose and got out. But she yielded to his coaxing, and he led her to her stall without difficulty. He wished Lady Clementina herself could have been his witness how she knew her friend and trusted him. Had she seen how the poor bleeding thing rejoiced over him, she could not have doubted that his treatment had been in part at least a success.
Kelpie had many enemies amongst the men of the mews. Merton had gone out for the evening, and they had taken the opportunity of getting into her stable and tormenting her. At length she broke her fastenings: they fled, and she rushed out after them.
They carried the maimed man to the hospital, where his leg was immediately amputated.
Malcolm washed and dried his poor animal, handling her as gently as possible, for she was in a sad plight. It was plain he must not have her here any longer: worse to her at least was sure to follow. He went up, trembling himself now, to Mrs. Merton. She told him she was just running to fetch him when he arrived: she had no idea how ill he was. But he felt all the better for the excitement, and after he had taken a cup of strong tea wrote to Mr. Soutar to provide men on whom he could depend — if possible the same who had taken her there before — to await Kelpie's arrival at Aberdeen. There he must also find suitable housing and attention for her at any expense until further directions, or until, more probably, he should claim her himself. He added many instructions to be given as to her treatment.
Until Merton returned he kept watch, then went back to the chamber of his torture, which, like Kelpie, he shuddered to enter. The cook let him in and gave him his candle, but hardly had he closed his door when a tap came to it, and there stood Rose, his preserver. He could not help feeling embarrassed when he saw her.
"I see you don't trust me," she said.
"I do trust you," he answered. "Will
