Old Tom 



noble animal responded! The pace he settled into 

 dazed me; I could hardly distinguish the deer trail 

 down which he was thundering. I lost my comrades 

 ahead; the pinon blurred in my sight; I only faintly 

 heard the hounds. It occurred to me we were making 

 for the breaks, but I did not think of checking Satan. 

 I thought only of flying on faster and faster. 



&quot; On! On! old fellow! Stretch out! Never lose 

 this race ! We ve got to be there at the finish ! &quot; I 

 called to Satan, and he seemed to understand and 

 stretched lower, farther, quicker. 



The brush pounded my legs and clutched and tore 

 my clothes; the wind whistled; the pinon branches 

 cut and whipped my face. Once I dodged to the left, 

 as Satan swerved to the right, with the result that I 

 flew out of the saddle, and crashed into a pinon tree, 

 which marvelously brushed me back into the saddle. 

 The wild yells and deep bays sounded nearer. Satan 

 tripped and plunged down, throwing me as grace 

 fully as an aerial tumbler wings his flight. I alighted 

 in a bush, without feeling of scratch or pain. As 

 Satan recovered and ran past, I did not seek to make 

 him stop, but getting a good grip on the pommel, I 

 vaulted up again. Once more he raced like a wild 

 mustang. And from nearer and nearer in front 

 pealed the alluring sounds of the chase. 



Satan was creeping close to Wallace and Jones, 

 221 



