And I was rendered mentally deranged for the moment to see that hundred paces between the bay and Spot materially lessen at every jump.

Spot lengthened out, seemed to go down near the ground, and cut the air like a high-geared auto.

If I had not heard the fast rhythmic beat of his hoofs, and had not bounced high into the air at every jump, I would have been sure I was riding a bird.

I tried to stop him.

As well might I have tried to pull in the Lusitania with a thread.
Spot was out to overhaul that bay, and in spite of me, he was doing it.
The wind rushed into my face and sang in my ears.