apse, and for a
moment the whole quivering body, upreared and perpendicular, swayed back
and forth, and there was uncertainty as to whether it would fall forward
or backward. The man, half-slipping sidewise from the saddle, so as to
fall clear if the mare toppled backward, threw his weight to the front
and alongside her neck. This overcame the dangerous teetering balance,
and the mare struck the ground on her feet again.

But there was no let-up. Dolly straightened out so that the line of the
face was almost a continuation of the line of the stretched neck;
this position enabled her to master the bit, which she did by bolting
straight ahead down the road.

For the first time Lute became really frightened. She spurred Washoe Ban
in pursuit, but he could not hold his own with the mad mare, and dropped
gradually behind. Lute saw Dolly check and rear in the air again, and
caught up just as the mare made a second bolt. As Dolly dashed around a
bend, she stopped suddenly, stiff-legged. Lute saw her lover torn out of
the saddle, his thigh-grip broken by the sudden jerk. Though he had lost
his seat, he had not been thrown, and as the mare dashed on Lute saw him
clinging to the side of the horse, a hand in the mane and a leg across
the saddle. With a quick cavort he regained his seat and proceeded to
fight with the mare for control.

But Dolly swerved from the road and dashed down a grassy slope yellowed
with innumerable mariposa lilies. An ancient fence at the bottom was
no obstacle. She burst through as though it were filmy spider-web and
disappeared in the underbrush. Lute followed unhesitatingly, putting Ban
through the gap in the fence and plunging on into the thicket. She lay
along his neck, closely, to escape the ripping and tearing of the trees
and vines. She felt the horse drop down through leafy branches and into
the cool gravel of a stream's bottom. From ahead came a splashing of
water, and she caught a glimpse of Dolly, dashing up the small bank and
into a clump of scrub-oaks, against the trunks of which she was trying
to scrape off her rider.

Lute almost caught up amongst the trees, but was hopelessly outdistanced
on the fallow field adjoining, across which the mare tore with a fine
disregard for heavy ground and gopher-holes. When she turned at a sharp
angle into the thicket-land beyond, Lute took the long diagonal, skirted
the ticket, and reined in Ban at the other side. She had arrived first.
From within the