The master partly dislocated one knee, another man broke two ribs, and another--the present writer--broke his arm.

However, almost all of us managed to struggle through to the end in time to see the death.
On this occasion I owed my broken arm to the fact that my horse, a solemn animal originally taken out of a buggy, though a very clever fencer, was too coarse to gallop alongside the blooded beasts against which he was pitted.

But he was so easy in his gaits, and so quiet, being ridden with only a snaffle, that there was no difficulty in following to the end of the run.

I had divers adventures on this horse.
Once I tried a pair of so-called "safety" stirrups, which speedily fell out, and I had to ride through the run without any, at the cost of several tumbles.

Much the best hunter I ever owned was a sorrel horse named Sagamore.