He was in the saddle in a trice, and, almost as quickly, he was very nearly out of it. That cat jump had come on the instant.
"Stick to him," Hazel cried.
And David Slosson did his best. He caught hold of the horn of the saddle, his heels went into the horse's sides, and, in two seconds, his attitude was much that of a shipwrecked mariner trying to balance on a barrel in a stormy sea. But he stuck to the saddle, although so nearly wrecked, and though the terrified horse gave a pretty display of bucking, it could not shed its unwelcome burden. So, in a few moments, it abandoned its attempt.
Then David Slosson sat up in triumph, and his vanity shone forth upon his pale face in a beaming smile.
"He's some horseman," rumbled Mallinsbee, loud enough for Slosson to hear as the horses went off.
"Quite," returned Gordon, in a still louder voice. "If there's one thing I like to see it's a fine exhibition of horsemanship."
Then as the horses started at a headlong gallop down towards the valley, the two men left behind turned to each other with a laugh.
"He called Hazel's bluff," said the girl's father, with a wry thrust of his chin beard.
"Which makes it all the more pleasant to think of the time when my turn comes," said Gordon sharply.
David Slosson was more than pleased with himself. He was so delighted that, by a miraculous effort, he had stuck to his horse, that his vanity completely ran away with him. He would show this girl and her mossback father. They wanted to "jolly" him. Well, let them keep trying.