FOR SALE— A THOROUGHBRED NAG. 121 



and crush me beneath her, she played what I had been led to 

 understand was her great trump-card — she lay down and rolled. 

 But her feet were clogged \\\\\\ the soft loam, and the action was 

 not so quick but that I had time to get my foot free from the 

 stirrup. I stood over her, as I had promised myself I would. 

 She glared back at me in surprise. She planted out her fore- 

 feet, preparing to rise. I was ready ; remembering Joe's last 

 words, I grasped the saddle behind me. It was well I did, for 

 with the jerk with which she rose she almost jerked me over her 

 head. She seemed to have expected thus to get rid of mc 

 She looked round and stood still a moment to consider what she 

 would do next. ' Do what I want you to do,' said I, then touched 

 her with my heel, and guided her across the field. She stepped 

 along steadily enough till she reached the farther side. I had 

 begun in my triumph to despise the clumsiness and fewness of 

 her tricks, and to laugh at myself for having looked forward to 

 her playing of them with such anxiety, when she espied under a 

 wide-spreading oak a breach in the wattle-fence between the 

 field and the road, and dashed straight at it, will I, nill I. Again 

 I thought of Absalom, this time with more propriety. Before I 

 could count six we had passed under the tree ; a crooked finger 

 of one of its great arms had snatched my hat — luckily leaving 

 me my head — we w^ere down the steep bank, and tearing along 

 the road as hard as she could gallop. 



'This is nice,' thought I, 'very nice.' I must confess I 

 thought bitterly of my father. He had allowed me to be carried 

 off by this brute ; he would now be sitting down quietly to lunch 

 at home ; but I would lunch at — wJiej-e ? The road was straight 

 and firm, and her feet covered mile after mile ; while I, hot, 

 tired, and hatless, resigned myself to a Gilpin ride. Ten good 

 miles, through sun and shade, without the interruption of a 

 single turnpike. Up Sharpthornc Hill she slackened pace a 

 little, and I got her danced down the long street of the village 

 of Cripley and into the George yard, twelve miles from home. 

 I shouted eagerly for the ostler, for she seemed inclined to return 

 to the road. A little bow-legged man appeared. 



' Had a stiff run, sir ?' said he, as he stood at her head and 

 glanced at her lathered shoulders. 



' Rather,' said I. I swung myself off, and walked away to 

 find the inn-parlour. 



I lunched off the remains of a leg of mutton the innkeeper's 

 family had had for dinner. I rested a little, and then, in a hat 



