facing him, in bathing suits, legs dangling toward the water, sat
three terrified nymphs.

And in the tank, the center of the picture, a great horse, bright bay
and wet and ruddy satin, vertical in the water, struck upward and
outward into the free air with huge fore-hoofs steel-gleaming in the
wet and sun, while on its back, slipping and clinging, was the white
form of what Graham took at first to be some glorious youth. Not until
the stallion, sinking, emerged again by means of the powerful beat of
his legs and hoofs, did Graham realize that it was a woman who rode
him--a woman as white as the white silken slip of a bathing suit that
molded to her form like a marble-carven veiling of drapery. As marble
was her back, save that the fine delicate muscles moved and crept
under the silken suit as she strove to keep her head above water. Her
slim round arms were twined in yards of half-drowned stallion-mane,
while her white round knees slipped on the sleek, wet, satin pads of
the great horse's straining shoulder muscles. The white toes of her
dug for a grip into the smooth sides of the animal, vainly seeking a
hold on the ribs beneath.

In a breath, or the half of a breath, Graham saw the whole breathless
situation, realized that the white wonderful creature was a woman, and
sensed the smallness and daintiness of her despite her gladiatorial
struggles. She reminded him of some Dresden china figure set absurdly
small and light and strangely on the drowning back of a titanic beast.
So dwarfed was she by the bulk of the stallion that she was a midget,
or a tiny fairy from fairyland come true.

As she pressed her cheek against the great arching neck, her golden-
brown hair, wet from being under, flowing and tangled, seemed tangled