“This will never do.  They are running away from us,” said Madeline, and she eased up her hold on the bridle.  Something happened beneath her just then; she did not know at first exactly what.  As much as she had been on horseback she had never ridden at a running gait.  In New York it was not decorous or safe.  So when Majesty lowered and stretched and changed the stiff, jolting gallop for a wonderful, smooth, gliding run it required Madeline some moments to realize what was happening.  It did not take long for her to see the distance diminishing between her and her companions.  Still they had gotten a goodly start and were far advanced.  She felt the steady, even rush of the wind.  It amazed her to find how easily, comfortably she kept to the saddle.  The experience was new.  The one fault she had heretofore found with riding was the violent shaking-up.  In this instance she experienced nothing of that kind, no strain, no necessity to hold on with a desperate awareness of work.  She had never felt the wind in her face, the whip of a horse’s mane, the buoyant, level spring of a tanning gait.  It thrilled her, exhilarated her, fired her blood.  Suddenly she found herself alive, throbbing; and, inspired by she knew not what, she loosened the bridle and, leaning far forward, she cried, “Oh, you splendid fellow, run!”

She heard from under her a sudden quick clattering roar of hoofs, and she swayed back with the wonderfully swift increase in Majesty’s speed.  The wind stung her face, howled in her ears, tore at her hair.  The gray plain swept by on each side, and in front seemed to be waving toward her.  In her blurred sight Florence and Alfred appeared to be coming back.  But she saw presently, upon nearer view, that Majesty was overhauling the other horses, was going to pass them.  Indeed, he did pass them, shooting by so as almost to make them appear standing still.  And he ran on, not breaking his gait till he reached the steep side of the mesa, where he slowed down and stopped.

“Glorious!” exclaimed Madeline.  She was all in a blaze, and every muscle and nerve of her body tingled and quivered.  Her hands, as she endeavored to put up the loosened strands of hair, trembled and failed of their accustomed dexterity.  Then she faced about and waited for her companions.

Alfred reached her first, laughing, delighted, yet also a little anxious.

“Holy smoke!  But can’t he run?  Did he bolt on you?”

“No, I called in his ear,” replied Madeline.

“So that was it.  That’s the woman of you, and forbidden fruit.  Flo said she’d do it the minute she was on him.  Majesty, you can ride.  See if Flo doesn’t say so.”

The Western girl came up then with her pleasure bright in her face.

“It was just great to see you.  How your hair burned in the wind!  Al, she sure can ride.  Oh, I’m so glad!  I was a little afraid.  And that horse!  Isn’t he grand?  Can’t he run?”