“I am, my Lord,” I answered.  The bells were pealing noon.

“Then mount, sir,” said he.

The voices of the people dropped to a hum that brought to mind the long forgotten sound of the bees swarming in the garden by the Chesapeake.  My breath began to come quickly.  Through the sunny haze I saw the cows and deer grazing by the Serpentine, and out of the back of my eye handkerchiefs floated from the carriages banked at the gate.  They took the blanket off the stallion.  Stall-fed, and excited by the crowd, he looked brutal indeed.  The faithful Banks, in a new suit of the Carvel livery, held the stirrup, and whispered a husky “God keep you, sir!” Suddenly I was up.  The murmur was hushed, and the Park became still as a peaceful farm in Devonshire.  The grooms let go of the stallion’s head.

He stood trembling like the throes of death.  I gripped my knees as Captain Daniel had taught me, years ago, when some invisible force impelled me to look aside.  From between the broad and hunching shoulders of Chartersea I met such a venomous stare as a cattle-fish might use to freeze his prey.  Cattle—­fish!  The word kept running over my tongue.  I thought of the snaky arms that had already caught Mr. Marmaduke, and were soon, perhaps, to entangle Dorothy.  She had begged me not to ride, and I was risking a life which might save hers.

The wind rushing in my ears and beating against my face awoke me all at once.  The trees ran madly past, and the water at my right was a silver blur.  The beast beneath me snorted as he rose and fell.  Fainter and fainter dropped the clamour behind me, which had risen as I started, and the leaps grew longer and longer.  Then my head was cleared like a steamed window-pane in a cold blast.  I saw the road curve in front of me, I put all my strength into the curb, and heeling at a fearful angle was swept into the busy Kensington Road.  For the first time I knew what it was to fear a horse.  The stallion’s neck was stretched, his shoes rang on the cobbles, and my eyes were fixed on a narrow space between carriages coming together.  In a flash I understood why the duke had insisted upon Hyde Park, and that nerved me some.  I saw the frightened coachmen pulling their horses this way and that, I heard the cries of the foot-passengers, and then I was through, I know 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.