The horse didn’t want to be turned, but came round quickly, almost on a pivot, very much disturbing my equilibrium again; but by gripping tightly with my legs I managed to hold on, and looked anxiously at Lomax.
“Ah,” he shouted, “eyes straight for the horse’s ears! Now then, you will sit firm, elbows close to your sides. ’Tention! The squadron will advance at a walk. Forward—tr–r–r–ot!”
The horse had only walked a few paces when the second order came, and he broke directly into a trot, which sent me bumping up and down, now a little inclined to the right, then more to the left, then my balance was gone. I made a desperate effort to save myself, and then, perfectly certain that the horse would trample me to death beneath his feet, down I went on my back, and began to scramble up, with my mount stock still beside me.
“Not hurt a bit!” cried Lomax, running up and handing me my cap, which had come off.
“No,” I said, beginning to feel myself all over; “I don’t think anything is broken.”
“And I’m sure there isn’t,” cried Lomax. “Now then, I’ll give you a leg up.”
“Am I to get up again—now?” I faltered.
“Without you want to say you haven’t pluck enough to learn to ride.”
“No,” I said; “I haven’t pluck enough to say that.”