Ah, he was something like a man! Had I ever dared to flout him so, he would have hanged me with it." Wild with his wrong, he struck the rowel deep into the flank of his wading horse, and in scorn of the depth drove him up the river.

The shoulders of the swimming horse broke the swirling water, as he panted and snorted against it; and if Philip Yordas had drawn back at once, he might even now have crossed safely.

But the fury of his blood was up, the stronger the torrent the fiercer his will, and the fight between passion and power went on.

The poor horse was fain to swerve back at last; but he struck him on the head with a carbine, and shouted to the torrent: "Drown me, if you can.

My father used to say that I was never born to drown.