“Let me get up,” said I, waxing wroth, for reasons I cannot tell you, because they are too manifold; “take off your saddle-bag things.  I will try not to squeeze her ribs in, unless she plays nonsense with me.”

[Illustration:  083.jpg Bill Dadds]

Then Mr. Faggus was up on his mettle, at this proud speech of mine; and John Fry was running up all the while, and Bill Dadds, and half a dozen.  Tom Faggus gave one glance around, and then dropped all regard for me.  The high repute of his mare was at stake, and what was my life compared to it?  Through my defiance, and stupid ways, here was I in a duello, and my legs not come to their strength yet, and my arms as limp as a herring.

Something of this occurred to him even in his wrath with me, for he spoke very softly to the filly, who now could scarce subdue herself; but she drew in her nostrils, and breathed to his breath and did all she could to answer him.

“Not too hard, my dear,” he said:  “led him gently down on the mixen.  That will be quite enough.”  Then he turned the saddle off, and I was up in a moment.  She began at first so easily, and pricked her ears so lovingly, and minced about as if pleased to find so light a weight upon her, that I thought she knew I could ride a little, and feared to show any capers.  “Gee wug, Polly!” cried I, for all the men were now looking on, being then at the leaving-off time:  “Gee wug, Polly, and show what thou be’est made of.”  With that I plugged my heels into her, and Billy Dadds flung his hat up.

Nevertheless, she outraged not, though her eyes were frightening Annie, and John Fry took a pick to keep him safe; but she curbed to and fro with her strong forearms rising like springs ingathered, waiting and quivering grievously, and beginning to sweat about it.  Then her master gave a shrill clear whistle, when her ears were bent towards him, and I felt her form beneath me gathering up like whalebone, and her hind-legs coming under her, and I knew that I was in for it.

First she reared upright in the air, and struck me full on the nose with her comb, till I bled worse than Robin Snell made me; and then down with her fore-feet deep in the straw, and her hind-feet going to heaven.  Finding me stick to her still like wax, for my mettle was up as hers was, away she flew with me swifter than ever I went before, or since, I trow.  She drove full-head at the cobwall—­“Oh, Jack, slip off,” screamed Annie—­then she turned like light, when I thought to crush her, and ground my left knee against it.  “Mux me,” I cried, for my breeches were broken, and short words went the furthest—­“if you kill me, you shall die with me.”  Then she took the court-yard gate at a leap, knocking my words between my teeth, and then right over a quick set hedge, as if the sky were a breath to her; and away for the water-meadows, while I lay on her neck like a child at the breast and wished I had never been born.  Straight away, all in the front of the wind, and scattering clouds around her, all I knew of the speed we made was the frightful flash of her shoulders, and her mane like trees in a tempest.  I felt the earth under us rushing away, and the air left far behind us, and my breath came and went, and I prayed to God, and was sorry to be so late of it.