She lighted and stood stock still within a foot of the slope,
so powerful was she to stop herself. An uproar of cries arose among the
men. I heard the old soldier's voice above them all.
"Damn you, Armstrong, you fool!" he cried; "you'll break your neck, and
serve you right too!"
I don't know a stronger proof that the classical hell has little hold on
the faith of the Saxons, than that good-hearted and true men will not
unfrequently damn their friends when they are most anxious to save them.
But before the words were half out of the colonel's mouth, Harry was
half-way down the cutting. He had gone straight at it like a cat, and it
was of course the only way. I had galloped to the edge after him, and now
saw him, or rather her, descending by a succession of rebounds--not
bounds--a succession, in fact, of short falls upon the fore-legs, while
Harry's head was nearly touching her rump. Arrived at the bottom, she gave
two bounds across the rails, and the same moment was straining right up
the opposite bank in a fierce agony of effort, Harry hanging upon her
neck.
Pages:
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231