Jim was motionless, each hand
like iron on the rein--yet with gentleness, for he knew the great black
brute was only a baby after all, and a badly frightened baby at that.
Cecil, coming by on Betty, his face white, looked aghast at the
struggle between horse and rider, and fled on homewards. The thunder
pealed, and the lightning lit the sky in forked darts.
Possibly the rain steadied Monarch, or sense came back to him through
Jim's voice. He stopped suddenly, planting all four feet wide apart on
the ground. Jim patted his neck, and spoke to him, and the tension went
out of the big horse. He stood trembling a little.
"Slip along," nodded Jim to Norah.
Bobs and Nan went off together. Behind them, Monarch broke into a
canter, obedient once more.
Five minutes later they were at the stables, Billy out in the wet to
take the horses. The storm was raging still, but there were coolness
and refreshment in the air. Billy grinned at the three soaked riders as
they slipped to the ground, and then at Brown Betty, trotting down the
hill in the rain. There was no sign of Cecil, who had fled indoors.
"Him plenty 'fraid," said the black retainer, his grin widening. "Him
run like emu!" His eagle gaze dwelt on Monarch, who was still trembling
and excited.
"Been buck?" he asked, his eyes round.
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