Since Melbury could not now very well read the younger man the lecture
he had intended, and as friendliness would be hypocrisy, his instinct
was to speak not a single word to his son-in-law. He raised Fitzpiers
into a sitting posture, and found that he was a little stunned and
stupefied, but, as he had said, not otherwise hurt. How this fall had
come about was readily conjecturable: Fitzpiers, imagining there was
only old Darling under him, had been taken unawares by the younger
horse's sprightliness.
Melbury was a traveller of the old-fashioned sort; having just come
from Shottsford-Forum, he still had in his pocket the pilgrim's flask
of rum which he always carried on journeys exceeding a dozen miles,
though he seldom drank much of it. He poured it down the surgeon's
throat, with such effect that he quickly revived. Melbury got him on
his legs; but the question was what to do with him. He could not walk
more than a few steps, and the other horse had gone away.
With great exertion Melbury contrived to get him astride Darling,
mounting himself behind, and holding Fitzpiers round his waist with one
arm. Darling being broad, straight-backed, and high in the withers,
was well able to carry double, at any rate as far as Hintock, and at a
gentle pace.