142 A Sportswoman in India 



as I live. Instantly there was no time to think I 

 felt him turn outwards still more, and both his hind- 

 legs were over. In the selfsame moment I threw 

 myself off the saddle on to the path. I do not know 

 I never shall know how I did it. I kept hold 

 of the reins, and for a second of time, kneeling 

 on the path, clung to them, Sphai's head on a level 

 with me, his two poor great fore-legs clattering 

 hopelessly on the path, while with his strong hind- 

 quarters he fought for a minute for life, trying 

 to dig his toes into some crevice in the precipice. 

 It was only for a second. I was powerless to hold 

 him up. There was not even time to call to 

 S. Right over, backwards, he slowly went, with 

 a long heave. I saw the expression in his poor, 

 imploring eyes. . . . 



Picture what it was like to stand there, powerless 

 to help in any way ! I rather wished I had gone 

 over too. A hideously long silence such a dead 

 silence and then two sickening crashes, as he hit 

 rock after rock. A pause, . . . and a long resounding 

 roar from all the rocks and pebbles at the bottom 

 of the gorge. 



The shock of what had happened stunned me 

 beyond expression. The whole scene has been a 

 nightmare many a time since. Sphai lay, literally 

 smashed to pieces, down below ; and but for the 

 facts that I had just happened to pull out my skirt, 

 and, being on a man's saddle, slipped off at once, 

 the rocky gorge would have held us side by side. 



