Norah had already started in pursuit when she saw her cousin
send his spurs home in Betty, and charge forward. So she pulled up the
indignant Bobs, who danced, and left the field to Cecil.
Betty took charge of affairs from the outset. There was no move in all
the cattle-game that she did not understand. Moreover, she was justly
indignant at the spur-thrust, which attention only came her way in
great emergencies; and the heavy hand on her mouth was gall and
wormwood to her. But ahead was a flying bullock, and she was a stock
horse, which was sufficient for Betty.
"That feller brown mare got it all her own way!" said Billy, in
delight.
She had. Cecil, bumping a little in the saddle, had no very clear idea
of how things were going. He had a moment of amazement that the quiet
mare he had despised could make such a pace. Once he tried to steady
her, but at that instant Betty was not to be steadied. She galloped on,
and Cecil, recovering some of his self-possession, began to think that
this was the thing whereof he had dreamed.
The bullock was fat and scant of breath. It did not take him very long
to conclude that he had had enough, especially when he heard the hoofs
behind him. It was sad, for close before him was the shade of the trees
and the murmur of the river; but discretion is ever the better part of
valour, particularly if one be not only valorous but fat.
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