in the saddle.

A smart flick of the whip upon their glossy backs, and the creams sprang
forward at a run. The buggy was new and strong, and if they kept the
road all would be well--unless they met Banjo upon the narrow ridge
between two broad-topped knolls, known as the Hog's Back. Another
tap, and the creams ran like deer. One wheel struck a cobble stone,
and the buggy lurched horribly.

"Stop! There goes my coyote!" cried Miss Whitmore, as a gray object
slid down under the hind wheel.

"Hang on or you'll go next," was all the comfort she got, as Chip
braced himself for the struggle before him. The Hog's Back was reached,
but Banjo was pounding up the hill beyond, his nostrils red and flaring,
his sides reeking with perspiration. Behind him tore the Flying U boys
in a vain effort to head him back into the coulee before mischief was
done.

Chip drew his breath sharply when the creams swerved out upon the broad
hilltop, just as Banjo thundered past with nothing left of his rider but
the legs, and with them shorn of their plumpness as the hay dribbled out
upon the road.

A fresh danger straightway forced itself upon Chip's consciousness.
The creams, maddened by the excitement, were running away. He held
them sternly to the road and left the stopping of them to Providence,
inwardly thanking the Lord that Miss Whitmore did not seem to be the
screaming kind of woman.