FIRST TIME IN THE SADDLE 



It came about like this. We had to follow the funeral 

 of a boy who was drowned in a flood through being 

 reckless. I wanted to see him buried, but as the 

 cemetery was a long way off, and I was late, I " stole " 

 a horse — that is to say, I borrowed him out of a livery 

 stable near where I was working. This horse I had 

 no knowledge of anyone having ridden before, for at 

 least three months, at all events. I got on the horse 

 — he was a grey, I remember — and the stirrup-leathers 

 were shortened by a chum of mine to the last hole, 

 and even then were too long ! So I had to tuck my 

 feet into the leather loops. How I got round my 

 corner when the grey wanted to go round his is 

 something I shall never forget. 



That horse knew he had a kid of under forty-five 

 lb. on his back. I am sure of it, although I hadn't 

 learnt horse language in those days. However, it 

 was ordained that there were not to be two corpses 

 at that funeral, and we did arrive at the graveyard. 

 I know I didn't look three feet high when I got off that 

 horse. He was quite young. He just sniffed at me, 

 then shook his head, and champed up the grass. 

 When I got back to him his contempt seemed to have 

 increased. Wliether it was the sour grass, or that he 

 really wanted to be stretched out at a gallop, I don't 

 know. The other visitors to the funeral had gone on 

 ahead, and how to get up on the saddle was a licker 

 to me. I tried to get him to a fence so that I could 

 climb on his back, but he wouldn't have it. I wanted 

 my way, but he had his. At last I made one dash 

 for it, but before T could get either on or off he had 

 raced away with me. I was embracing his neck ! 

 I got my right foot through the leather, but the other 

 hung down. I did not dare to drop off, for that would 

 have been certain suicide. 



