“Not for the world,” said I—“you will find, when you know me better, that when once I have undertaken a thing, I will go through with it—difficulties only make me more determined.”
“Ah!” said Coleman, “you should get somebody to write a book about you, that is the kind of disposition they always give to the heroes of novels, the sort of character that will go and run his head against a brick wall to prove that it is the harder and thicker of the two—they knock out their brains though, sometimes, in doing it, when they happen to have any—it is very pretty to read about, splendid in theory, but I much doubt its acting so well if you come to put it in practice.”
“You may laugh at me, if you please,” replied I; “but depend upon it, a man of energy and determination will undertake great deeds, aye, and perform them too, which your prudent, cautious character would have considered impossibilities.”
“Perhaps it may be so,” was the reply; “I know I am not the sort of stuff they cut heroes out of—woa, Punch! steady, old boy; holloa, what ails him? this is getting serious.”
During this conversation we had been gradually leaving the town behind us and approaching the downs, and had arrived at a point where the road became a mere cart-track, and the open country lay spread for miles before us. Our two steeds, which had up to the present time conducted themselves with the greatest propriety, now began to show signs of excitement, and, as the fresh air from the downs blew against their nostrils, they tossed their heads, snorted, and exchanged the quiet jog-trot pace at which we had been proceeding, for a dancing, sidelong motion, which somewhat disturbed Coleman's equanimity, and elicited from him the expressions above recorded. The road at the same time becoming uneven and full of ruts, we agreed to turn our horses' heads, and quit it for the more tempting pathway afforded by the green-sward. No sooner, however, did Punch feel the change from the hard road to the soft elastic footing of the turf, than he proceeded to demonstrate his happiness by slightly elevating his heels and popping his head down between his forelegs, thereby jerking the rein loose in Coleman's hand; and, perceiving that his rider (who was fully employed in grasping the pommel of his saddle in order to preserve his seat) made no effort to check his vivacity, he indulged his high spirits still further by setting off at a brisk canter.
“Pull him in,” cried I, “you'll have him run away with you; pull at him.”
Whether my advice was acted upon or not I was unable to observe, as my whole attention was demanded by Mad Bess, who appeared at length resolved to justify the propriety of her appellation. Holding her in by means of the snaffle alone had been quite as much as I had been able to accomplish during the last ten minutes, and this escapade on the part of Punch brought the matter to a crisis. I must either allow her to follow him, i.e., to run away, or use the curb to prevent it. Seating myself, therefore, as firmly as I could, and gripping the saddle tightly with my knees, I took up the curb rein, which till now had been hanging loosely on the mare's neck, and gradually tightened it. This did not, for a moment, seem to produce any effect, but as soon as I drew the rein sufficiently tight to check her speed, she stopped short, and shook her head angrily. I attempted gently to urge her on—not a step except backwards would she stir—at length in despair I touched her slightly with the spur, and then “the fiend within her woke,” and proceeded to make up for lost time with a vengeance. The moment the mare felt the spur she reared until she stood perfectly erect, and fought the air with her forelegs. Upon this I slackened the rein, and, striking her over the ears with my riding-whip, brought her down again;—no sooner, however, had her forefeet touched the ground than she gave two or three violent plunges, which nearly succeeded in unseating me, jerked down her head so suddenly as to loosen the reins from my grasp, kicked viciously several times, and, seizing the cheek of the bit between her teeth so as to render it utterly useless (evidently an old trick of hers), sprang forward at a wild gallop. The pace at which we were going soon brought us alongside of Punch, who, having thoroughly mastered his rider, considered it highly improper that any steed should imagine itself able to pass him, and therefore proceeded to emulate the pace of Mad Bess. Thereupon a short but very spirited race ensued, the cob's pluck enabling him to keep neck and neck for a few yards; but the mare was going at racing speed, and the length of her stride soon began to tell; Punch, too, showed signs of having nearly had enough of it. I therefore shouted to Coleman as we were leaving them: “Keep his head up hill, and you'll be able to pull him in directly”. His answer was inaudible, but when I turned my head two or three minutes afterwards I was glad to see that he had followed my advice with complete success—Punch was standing still, about half a mile off, while his rider was apparently watching my course with looks of horror. All anxiety on his account being thus at an end, I proceeded to take as calm a view of my own situation as circumstances would allow, in order to decide on the best means of extricating myself therefrom. We had reached the top of the first range of hills I have described, and were now tearing at a fearful rate down the descent on the opposite side. It was clear that the mare could not keep up the pace at which she was going for any length of time: still she was in first-rate racing condition, not an ounce of superfluous flesh about her, and, though she must have gone more than two miles already, she appeared as fresh as when we started. I therefore cast my eyes around in search of some obstacle which might check her speed. The slope down which we were proceeding extended for about a mile before us, after which the ground again began to rise. In the valley between the two hills was a small piece of cultivated land, enclosed (as is usual in the district I am describing) within a low wall, built of flint-stones from the beach. Towards this I determined to guide the mare as well as I was able, in the hope that she would refuse the leap, in which case I imagined I might pull her in. The pace at which we were going soon brought us near the spot, when I was glad to perceive that the wall was a more formidable obstacle than I had at first imagined, being fully six feet high, with a ditch in front of it. I therefore selected a place where the ditch seemed widest, got her head up by sawing her mouth with the snaffle, and put her fairly at it. No sooner did she perceive the obstacles before her than, slightly moderating her pace, she appeared to collect herself, gathered her legs well under her, and, rushing forward, cleared wall, ditch, and at least seven feet of ground beyond, with a leap like a deer, alighting safely with me on her back on the opposite side, where she continued her course with unabated vigour.
We had crossed the field (a wheat stubble) ere I had recovered from my astonishment at finding myself safe, after such a leap as I had most assuredly never dreamt of taking. Fortunately there was a low gate on the farther side, towards which I guided the mare, for though I could not check, I was in some measure able to direct, her course. This time, however, she either did not see the impediment in her way, or despised it, as, without abating her speed, she literally rushed through the gate, snapping into shivers with her chest the upper bar, which was luckily rotten, and clearing the lower ones in her stride. The blow, and the splintered wood flying about her ears, appeared to frighten her afresh, and she tore up the opposite ascent, which was longer and steeper than the last, like a mad creature. I was glad to perceive, however, that the pace at which she had come, and the distance (which must have been several miles), were beginning to tell—her glossy coat was stained with sweat and dust, while her breath, drawn with short and laboured sobs, her heaving flanks, and the tremulous motion of her limbs, afforded convincing proofs that the struggle could not be protracted much longer. Still she continued to hold the bit between her teeth as firmly as though it were in a vice, rendering any attempt to pull her in utterly futile. We had now reached the crest of the hill, when I was not best pleased to perceive that the descent on the other side was much more precipitous than any I had yet met with. I endeavoured, therefore, to pull her head round, thinking it would be best to try and retrace our steps, but I soon found that it was useless to attempt it. The mare had now become wholly unmanageable; I could not guide her in the slightest decree; and, though she was evidently getting more and more exhausted, she still continued to gallop madly forwards, as though some demon had taken possession of her, and was urging her on to our common destruction. As we proceeded down the hill our speed increased from the force of gravitation, till we actually seemed to fly—the wind appeared to shriek as it rushed past my ears, while, from the rapidity with which we were moving, the ground seemed to glide from under us, till my head reeled so giddily that I was afraid I should fall from the saddle.
