threw Nimrod head first from the saddle 

 into the mud, where he lay quite still. 



I faced the horror of death at that mo- 

 ment. Of course, this was what I had 

 been expecting, but had not been able 

 to put into words. Nimrod killed ! My 

 other fears dwindled away before this 

 one, or, rather, it seemed to wrap them 

 in itself, as in a cloak. For an instant 

 I could not move — there alone with a 

 dead or wounded man on that awful 

 mountain top. 



But here was an emergency where I 

 could do something besides blindly fol- 

 low another's lead. I caught the fright- 

 ened animal as it dashed out of the 

 treacherous place (to be horseless is al- 

 most a worse fate than to be wounded), 

 and Nimrod, who was little hurt, quickly 

 recovered and managed to scramble to 

 dry ground, and again into the saddle. 



