"But how am I to get in the saddle if he keeps doing that?"
"I hold 'im all right," said the groom. "You jes' get on 'im, suh. He soon find out who 's boss."
"I think he will," said my heartless companion.
"Nevvah you feah, suh," the man said to me. "Ah knowed the minute Ah saw yo' laigs 't you was a horseman. Yassuh! Ah says t' ole Gawge, Ah says, 'Dat gemman's certain'y been 'n de cava'ry, he has, wid dem fine crooked laigs o' hisn.'"
"You should have told that to Dr. Bell, instead," suggested my companion.
At this every one laughed. Even the groom laughed a wheezy, cackling negro laugh. The situation was becoming unbearable. Clearly I must try to mount. Perhaps I should not succeed, but I must try. As I was endeavoring to adjust my mind to this unpleasant fact the Efficient Sister spoke.
"That horse is going to be ridden," she said firmly, "if I have to go upstairs and dress and ride him myself."
That settled it.
"Now you hold him down," I said to the groom, and stepped forward.
As I did so Dr. Bell reared again, simultaneously drawing back sidewise and turning his flank away from me, but this time the Efficient Sister hit him with a crop she had found somewhere, and he came down hastily, and began to dance a sort of double clog with all four feet.