not how.  Once more I summoned all my power, recalled the twist Astley had spoken of, and tried it.  I bent his neck for an inch of rein.  Next I got another inch, and then came a taste—­the smallest taste—­of mastery like elixir.  The motion changed with it, became rougher, and the hoof-beats a fraction less frequent.  He steered like a ship with sail reduced.  In and out we dodged among the wagons, and I was beginning to think I had him, when suddenly, without a move of warning, he came down rigid with his feet planted together, and only a miracle and my tight grip restrained me from shooting over his head.  There he stood shaking and snorting, nor any persuasion would move him.  I resorted at last to the spurs.

He was up in the air in an instant, and came down across the road.  Again I dug in to the rowels, and clung the tighter, and this time he landed with his head to London.  A little knot of people had collected to watch me, and out stepped a strapping fellow in the King’s scarlet, from the Guard’s Horse near by.

“Hold him, sir!” he said, tipping.  “Better dismount, sir.  He means murder, y’r honour.”

“Keep clear, curse you!” I cried, waving him off.  “What time is it?”

He stepped back, no doubt thinking me mad.  Some one spoke up and said it was five minutes past noon.  I had the grace to thank him, I believe.  To my astonishment I had been gone but four minutes; they had seemed twenty.  Looking about me, I found I was in the open space before old Kensington Church, over against the archway there.  Once more I dug in the spurs, this time with success.  Almost at a jump the beast took me into the angle of posts to the east of the churchyard gate and tore up the footpath of Church Lane, terrified men and women ahead of me taking to the kennel.  He ran irregularly, now on the side of the posts, now against the bricks, and then I gave myself up.

Heaven put a last expedient into my head, that I had once heard Mr. Dulany speak of.  I braced myself for a pull that should have broken the stallion’s jaw and released his mouth altogether.  Incredible as it may seem, he jarred into a trot, and presently came down to a walk, tossing his head like fury, and sweating at every pore.  I leaned over and patted him, speaking him fair, and (marvel of marvels!) when we had got to the dogs that guard the entrance of Camden House I had coaxed him around and into the street, and cantered back at easy speed to the church.  Without pausing to speak to the bunch that stood at the throat of the lane, I started toward London, thankfulness and relief swelling within me.  I understood the beast, and spoke to him when he danced aside at a wagon with bells or a rattling load of coals, and checked him with a word and a light hand.