But he clung to it desperately, while the poor beast's next act was to rear up, pawing hard at the air.

In spite of the difficulty, Ingleborough shuffled himself back into the saddle, speaking encouraging words to the shivering animal, which kept on pawing at the air for a few moments and just gave its rider time to throw himself off sidewise before it went right over backwards, struck out with all four legs in the air, and then subsided--motionless.
West drew rein instantly as he tore by, and cantered back, reckless of the whistling bullets which were flying around.
"Beg their pardon!" cried Ingleborough, struggling to his feet after a heavy fall.

"I retract my words." "Hurt ?" cried West excitedly.
"Rather! Ground is pretty hard!" "Here," cried West, leaping off; "jump into my saddle, and I'll hold on by the mane and run." "Nonsense! Absurd! Don't be a fool!" cried Ingleborough angrily.

"The game's up for me! Jump up and gallop again! Don't let the brutes take you too." "Likely!" said West, taking out his handkerchief and beginning to fold it bandage fashion.

"Your head's bleeding.