Dick sat him lightly, giving to the furious plunges just enough to save himself from jar. He knew quite well how the horse felt—he felt rather like it himself, on this beautiful spring morning, when the very air was like a draught of wine. It was not the first time he had sat on a buck; it would not be the last, if Dick knew anything about it. So he sat quietly, his hands well down and his shoulders back. Mr. Warner broke into a sudden shout of laughter.
"Oh, Merle, you duffer! So you thought he couldn't ride!"
"Who? Dick?" asked Mr. Lester, in a voice of utter amazement.
Merle said nothing. She stood with her black brows drawn together, watching the slight, erect figure on the plunging bay. Agility had nearly bucked himself out; it was evident to him that Dick did not mean to leave the saddle, so he came gradually to a standstill, while the boy patted his neck and spoke to him soothingly. Dick glanced over and caught Mr. Warner's eye.
"May I take him round the paddock? He's just spoiling for a gallop!"
"Anywhere you like," said Mr. Warner, resignedly, still laughing.
Dick gave Agility his head, and the horse went off with a flying bound. The gentle slope of the hill ended in a long stretch of flat—good galloping ground, firm and sound, with the spring grass like a carpet underfoot. They swept round it at a hard gallop, keeping near the fence. Then a fallen tree tempted Dick, and he put the bay at it. Agility asked for nothing better. His ears pricked daintily; he shortened his stride, and flew the log like a bird. O'Mara, watching from the stable yard, gave a hoarse cackle of laughter.
"His ears pricked daintily; he shortened his stride,
and flew the log like a bird."