opposed. Whenever he wanted a mouthful of grass he stopped to get it.
Therefore Carley was always in the rear, a fact which in itself did not
displease her. Despite his contrariness, however, Spillbeans had apparently
no intention of allowing the other horses to get completely out of sight.

Several times Flo waited for Carley to catch up. "He's loafing on you,
Carley. You ought to have on a spur. Break off a switch and beat him some."
Then she whipped the mustang across the flank with her bridle rein, which
punishment caused Spillbeans meekly to trot on with alacrity. Carley had a
positive belief that he would not do it for her. And after Flo's repeated
efforts, assisted by chastisement from Glenn, had kept Spillbeans in a trot
for a couple of miles Carley began to discover that the trotting of a horse
was the most uncomfortable motion possible to imagine. It grew worse. It
became painful. It gradually got unendurable. But pride made Carley endure
it until suddenly she thought she had been stabbed in the side. This
strange piercing pain must be what Glenn had called a "stitch" in the side,
something common to novices on horseback. Carley could have screamed. She
pulled the mustang to a walk and sagged in her saddle until the pain
subsided. What a blessed relief! Carley had keen sense of the difference
between riding in Central Park and in Arizona. She regretted her choice of
horses. Spillbeans was attractive to look at, but the pleasure of riding
him was a delusion. Flo had said his gait resembled the motion of a rocking
chair. This Western girl, according to Charley, the sheep herder, was not
above playing Arizona jokes. Be that as it might, Spillbeans now manifested
a desire to remain with the other horses, and he broke out of a walk into a
trot. Carley could not keep him from trotting. Hence her state soon wore
into acute distress.

Her left ankle seemed broken. The stirrup was heavy, and as soon as she was
tired she could no longer keep its weight from drawing her foot in. The