ON THE GENERAL'S HORSE. 1 3 1 
particular points where the banks were worn by 
them almost to the level of the water. They 
were disturbed then, for their human enemies 
were among them, and their usually orderly pro- 
ceedings were broken up. They were divided 
into groups of ten, twenty, a hundred or more of 
all ages and sizes, all keeping the same general 
direction, but constantly changing places. 
There was a strange excitement about the 
scene which thrilled both horses and riders. The 
cloud of dust, the continuous thud of their heavy 
tread, the rocking motion of their huge, ungainly 
forms as they plunged forward to escape their 
pursuers. Mrs. Maxwell was mounted on the 
General's horse, a blooded mare of mettle and 
spirit, and for the time both it and its rider forgot 
they were not a part of the vast rushing herd 
about them. With flashing eyes and quickened 
breath they dashed among the groups, escaping 
the horns of one huge brute, only to be jostled 
against another— heedless of the shouts of the 
party, “ They will gore your horse ! ” “ They 
will kill you ! " They might as well have called 
to the wind ! On they rushed. 
At length the peril of her situation seeming to 
dawn upon her, she wheeled her foaming horse 
and made her way to the outer edge of the herd. 
Here a single beast, a few rods from any of the 
others, engaged her attention, and the resolve to 
