By some cajolery they had managed to slip a halter with a special length
of rope over the wary white head, and there for the moment matters hung.
For the white horse, with his forelegs firmly planted, dragged at one
end of the rope and the two men at the other, and the issue remained in
doubt.

The doubt, however, was suddenly solved by the white horse deciding on
more active measures. He swung his great head to one side, dragged the
men off their feet and started off at a gallop, they hanging on as best
they could.

Old Tom and Gard set off after them to see the end of the matter, and
suddenly, as the roadway dipped between high banks and became a hollow
way, the white beast gave a shrill squeal, flung up his heels, jerked
himself free, and vanished like a streak of light into the darkness of
the lofty bank in front.

"Mon Gyu!" cried old Tom, and sped up the bank to see the end.

But the white horse knew his way and had no fear. They were just in time
to hear the rattle of his hoofs, as he disappeared with a final shrill
defiance into the outer darkness on the further side of a mighty gulf,
while a stone dislodged by his flying feet went clattering down into
invisible depths.

"He's done it," panted old Tom, while Gard gazed with something like awe
at the narrow pathway, wavering across from side to side of the great
abyss, out of which rose the growl of the sea.

"What's this?" he asked.