exercise beyond his voluntary scamperings about the paddock from which
he had been brought, dancing with excitement and indignation. All the
stablemen had been required to get his bridle and saddle on; he now
wheeled round and round in the large space left for him, while Claud
Dalzell, in his London riding clothes, and with his air of a reigning
prince, warily turned with him. Guthrie Carey, in the waiting
pony-carriage, had but one interest in the performance--his hopeful
anticipation of a fatal, or at least a ridiculous, result.

But there was no fear of that, and evidently Deb knew it.
Sitting her own dancing chestnut, how her beautiful eyes glowed! She
gloried in the ring of breathless witnesses to the prowess of her
knight. Many a time did she scoff and scowl at the dandyisms which she
deemed effeminate; this was one of the moments which showed the man as
she desired him. Through those fine fingers, with the polished filbert
nails, the shortened reins were drawn and held as by clamps of steel;
so was the wild-eyed head by the lock of mane in the same hand. When no
one was looking--although every eye believed itself fixed upon him--
his left foot found its stirrup, his right gave a hop, and like
lightning he had sprung up and round, without touching the horse until
fairly down in the saddle; so that the animal was robbed of his best
chance of getting the rider off, which is at the moment before he is
quite on. No other chance was offered to the baffled one, although he
kicked like a demon for nearly ten minutes.

"I wish," Guthrie Carey ground through his strong teeth, "that the
cranky beast would break his neck." It was not the beast's neck he
meant.

But Deb called: "Bravo! Well done, indeed!" and when the battle was