hitherto obliged me to dismount and 

 get over the space on foot. 



This morning, when we came to a 

 nasty boggy place, with several scnall 

 water cuts running through it, I obeyed 

 the imp with reluctance. Well, we got 

 over it — Blondey, the imp, and I — with 

 nothing worse than wet feet and shat- 

 tered nerves. 



I attempted to mount, and had one 

 foot in the stirrup and one hand on the 

 pommel, when Blondey started. Like 

 the girl in the song, I could not get up, 

 I could not get down, and although I 

 had hold of the reins, I had no free 

 hand to pull them in tighter, and you 

 may be sure the imp did not help me. 

 Blondey, realising there was something 

 wrong, broke into a wild gallop across 

 country, but I clung on, expecting every 

 moment the saddle would turn, until I 



