He uttered a howl of anguish, while his almond eyes seemed starting out of their sockets as his steed dashed along the road.
Though Ben sympathized with the terrified Chinaman, he knew there was little or no danger, and he threw himself on the ground and gave way to a paroxysm of laughter.
Finally the horse slackened his pace, and Ki Sing lost no time in sliding to the ground.
"How do you like it, Ki Sing?" asked Bradley, trying to keep his face straight.
"No likee lide," answered Mr. Chinaman. "Horsee 'most kill Ki Sing."
"You rode splendidly, Ki Sing," said Ben, laughing. "You made him go fast."
"No likee go fast," said Ki Sing, inspecting his limbs to see that none were broken.
The poor Chinaman's limbs were sore for a day or two, and he could never be induced to mount one of the mustangs again.
It was his first and last ride.