The child obeyed, laying it flat on the brink and pushing it toward them.

Taffy gripped it with his left hand, and with his right found the mare's bridle.

George was bending forward.
"No--not that way! You can't get back! The wreck, man!--it's firmer--" But George reached out his hand and dragged the child towards him and on to his saddle-bow.

"Mine," he said quietly, and twitched the rein.

The brave mare snorted, jerked the bridle from Taffy's hand, and headed back for the shore she had left.
Rider, horse, and child seemed to fall away from him into the night.
He scrambled out, and snatching the crutch ran along the brink, staring at their black shadows.