When the battery had passed out and the doors were closed there was a short pause.  The next and last event was the music ride by the officers and girls, the prettiest sight in the world.  Middle-aged matrons and gray-mustached officers smiled in anticipation of seeing their rosebud daughters, on beautiful horses, admired and applauded of all.

In the C. O.’s box, Mrs. Fortescue, opening her fan, leaned over and smiled into the Colonel’s face.

“She’ll do it,” whispered the Colonel confidently, meaning that Anita would do her act more gracefully and brilliantly than any girl who ever rode a horse.

The band once more struck up, the great doors drew wide apart, this time with a clang, and the procession of youth and beauty and valor dashed upon the tanbark.  The officers were resplendent, while the girls, in their daring imitation of the uniform and with cavalry caps upon their pretty heads, looked like young Amazons riding to war.  Broussard and Anita, who led the cavalcade, were the best riders where all were good.  Pretty Maid and Gamechick seemed on the best of terms and their stride fitted perfectly.

The procession circled around the hall at a canter, and as Anita and Broussard, leading the procession, reached a point in front of the C. O.’s box, they both saluted, Anita raising her little gauntleted hand to her cavalry cap.  Colonel Fortescue stood up and returned the salute as the riders passed, two by two.  Next began the scene of beautiful horsemanship, pure and simple, winding up with the Virginia reel, done by the riders on horseback, as the band played the old reel, “Billy in the Low Grounds.”

Then came the last feature of all; the ride formed again, and, suddenly quickening their pace to a full gallop, started upon the circuit of the hall.  They swept around the circle at a sharp gallop, the clanking spurs and rattling sabres keeping time to the roar of the music.  Anita was riding like a bird on the wing and Pretty Maid, who had behaved with her usual grace and decorum, opening and shutting her stride like a machine.  Just as she got in front of the C. O.’s box the mare suddenly lost her head.  She hesitated, bringing her four feet together in a way that would have thrown over her head a rider less expert than Anita.  Behind her the line of riders was thrown into slight confusion with the unexpected halt.

The movements of animals are so much quicker than those of men that the eye can scarcely follow them.  One instant Anita was in her saddle; the next Pretty Maid stopped, crouched, gave a wild spring, fell prone on her knees, and rolled over, struggling violently.  Anita, half thrown and half slipped from her saddle, was on the tanbark, directly in front of Gamechick.

She straightened out her slim figure full length, and closed her eyes.  Broussard’s horse was then not six feet away from her and coming on as if the trumpeters were sounding the charge.