you. Don't miss your first holt of her mane, and mind ye get your off
stirrup QUICK. Ready!"

There was a leap, a scrambling struggle, a bound, a wild retreat of the
crowd, a circle of flying hoofs, two springless leaps that jarred the
earth, a rapid play and jingle of spurs, a plunge, and then the voice of
Dick somewhere in the darkness, "All right!"

"Don't take the lower road back onless you're hard pushed for time!
Don't hold her in down hill! We'll be at the ford at five. G'lang!
Hoopa! Mula! GO!"

A splash, a spark struck from the ledge in the road, a clatter in the
rocky cut beyond, and Dick was gone.

*****

Sing, O Muse, the ride of Richard Bullen! Sing, O Muse of chivalrous
men! the sacred quest, the doughty deeds, the battery of low churls, the
fearsome ride and grewsome perils of the Flower of Simpson's Bar! Alack!
she is dainty, this Muse! She will have none of this bucking brute and
swaggering, ragged rider, and I must fain follow him in prose, afoot!

It was one o'clock, and yet he had only gained Rattlesnake Hill. For
in that time Jovita had rehearsed to him all her imperfections and
practised all her vices. Thrice had she stumbled. Twice had she thrown
up her Roman nose in a straight line with the reins, and, resisting bit
and spur, struck out madly across country. Twice had she reared, and,
rearing, fallen backward; and twice had the agile Dick, unharmed,
regained his seat before she found her vicious legs again. And a mile