“Now bridle and saddle,” called out Burns. The bridle difficulty was soon arranged; but getting on the saddle took more time, as the animal’s hind legs were at liberty.
This being at length accomplished, a “greenhide” crupper was slipped under the tail, when from the top rails two men quickly spliced the hair partially into it.
When all was ready, Burns sang out, “Let go.” The bail was opened, and the horse was free, and making for the first man which caught his eye.
However, all hands were prepared for this rush, and quickly gained the top rail of the stockyard fence—all save Mat, who at first coolly dodged the brute; but at length followed the example of his companions, as “Satan” was evidently determined to kill him, and he could see no present chance of getting on his back.
Finding now that he had the yard to himself, the horse gave a moderate buck or two; but realizing that the saddle could not be shifted, contented himself with walking round and round, and glaring sullenly at the spectators.
Not a sound could now be heard. All eyes were fixed on Mat, who, watching his opportunity, sprang lightly down, and seizing the bridle by both reins close to the bit, was preparing to mount. Taken for the moment unawares—so quickly and silently had Mat accomplished this—the horse gave an angry snort, and the next moment was careering round, swinging Mat off his feet; but our forester’s grasp was powerful, and could not be shaken off.
Mat collars the buckjumper.
Finding that he could not free himself, the horse was preparing to put in practice some of his old tricks, when Mat vaulted, or swung himself as quick as thought into the saddle; yet before he could get either foot into the stirrups, up went “Satan” into the air, with head and tail down.
Three, four, six, ten, and more bucks, till the rider appeared as if permanently balanced on a pivot.