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MR. ISAACS
[CHAP. VIII.

possessed young woman, and had begun to be sure that the accident would have no serious results, expressed the most unbounded delight.

"Thank you, Miss Westonhaugh," said Isaacs; "you have kept your promise; you have crowned the victor."

"With brandy," I remarked, folding up a scarf which somebody had given me wherewith to tie a wet compress to the back of his head.

"There is nothing the matter," said Ghyrkins; "no end of a bad bruise, that's all. He will be all right in the morning, and the skin is only a little broken."

"Griggs," said Isaacs, who could now stand quite firm again, "hold the wet handkerchief in place, and give me that scarf." I did as he directed, and he took the white woollen shawl, and in half a dozen turns wound it round his head in a turban, deftly and gracefully. It was wonderfully becoming to his Oriental features and dark eyes, and I could see that Miss Westonhaugh thought so. There was a murmur of approbation from the native grooms who were looking on, and who understood the thing.

"You see I have done it before," he said, smiling. "And now give me my coat, and we will be getting home. Oh yes! I can ride quite well."

"That man has no end of pluck in him," said John Westonhaugh to Kildare.

"By Jove! yes," was the answer. "I have seen men at home make twice the fuss over a tumble in a ploughed field, when they were not even stunned. I would not have thought it."