When she expected it she was mistaken; when she dared to breathe again, then, with piercing swiftness, it returned like a blade in her side.

This, then, was one of the riding-pains that made a victim of a tenderfoot on a long ride.

It was almost too much to be borne.

The beauty of the forest, the living creatures to be seen scurrying away, the time, distance--everything faded before that stablike pain.

To her infinite relief she found that it was the trot that caused this torture.