“He will not kick, boy. He is too well broken. Secondly, you might lose your seat and come off: If you did, how far would you have to fall?”
“About four feet, father.”
“Say four. Suppose you were on a see-saw at school, would you be afraid of falling, off four or five or six feet?”
“No, father, of course not.”
“Then why should you be afraid of falling that distance from the horse?”
“I don’t know,” said Nic. “It is because it is all so fresh, I suppose. Yes, I do: my foot might hang in the stirrup and the horse gallop away with me, kicking me every time he strode.”
“When I am holding him? The stirrups, then: take your feet out.”
“Out of the stirrups, father? Is it safe to do so?”
“You were alarmed lest your foot should hang in one. Quick! out with them. That’s right: now draw them up, cross the leathers, and let the irons hang over on each side. Now how do you feel?”
“As if I must go off on one side or the other, father. The saddle is so dreadfully slippery.”