But the horses came to a sudden stop a few feet from where the girls stood. Then one turned and rushed away, kicking up his heels as if to say: “I’m not to be caught!”
Rose kept on calling “Range! Range!” and shaking the pan, and the other horse stepped forward and stuck his nose into the dish.
“Grab hold of his mane, Anne. Quick! and hold on tight!” said Rose; “the woman is coming now with the bridle.”
Anne obeyed, holding fast to the black mane until Mrs. Pierce came running from the barn, bringing a blanket and a bridle.
“I’m glad you caught Range,” she said; “he’s used to a saddle, and the colt is wild as a deer.” While she talked she was strapping the blanket securely on the horse’s back, and now slipped the bit into his mouth.
“The little girl better go,” she continued, nodding toward Anne. “You just climb that fence, and I’ll lead Range alongside and you can get on his back nicely. Sit boy fashion; it’s safer. No sense as I can see in a girl jest hanging on to one side of anything,” and almost before she knew it Anne found herself on the back of the black horse.
Mrs. Pierce, who had told the girls her name on the way to the pasture, led Range out into the road and headed him in the right direction.
“If he don’t go fast enough kick your heels against his sides and call to him,” directed the woman, handing the reins to Anne, and giving the horse a sharp slap that sent him off at a good pace.
It seemed to Anne as if she were going up into the air, or over the horse’s head. But somehow she managed to keep on Range’s back, though she did not dare to give a backward look.