I remember thinking that unless his insides were somewhat more
delicately organized than his external appearance would lead one to
suppose the chances were that the little brute would be the last to
succumb to sickness. To make matters worse, a wilder jump than ordinary
threw my cape up over my head, so that I was in complete darkness. And
now he had me at his mercy, and he knew no pity. He kicked and plunged
and reared and bucked, now on his front legs, now on his hind legs,
often on his knees, while I, in the darkness, could only cling to
the horn of the saddle. At last, in one of the gleams of light that
penetrated the folds of my enveloping cape, I found that the horn had
slipped to his side, so the next time he came to his knees I threw
myself off. I am anxious to make this point clear, for, from the
expression of triumph on the face of the grinning boy, and his encomiums
of the pony, I gathered that he scored a win for the cayuse. Without
pause that little brute continued for some seconds to buck and plunge
even after my dismounting, as if he were some piece of mechanism that
must run down before it could stop.

By this time I was sick enough and badly shaken in my nerve, but the
triumphant shouts and laughter of the boy and the complacent smiles on
the faces of Jack and the half-breed stirred my wrath. I tore off the
cape and, having got the saddle put right, seized Jack's riding whip
and, disregarding his remonstrances, sprang on my steed once more, and
before he could make up his mind as to his line of action plied him so
vigorously with the rawhide that he set off over the prairie at full
gallop, and in a few minutes came round to the camp quite subdued, to
the boy's great disappointment and to my own great surprise. Jack
was highly pleased, and even the stolid face of the half-breed showed
satisfaction.