ging stride. Diablo was simply mad
with a desire to gallop; but in the saddle was his master; no horse
ever did as he wished with John Porter. Battling against the sharps
his honesty might handicap him out of the strife, but in the saddle the
elation of movement crept into his sinews, and he was superb, a king.
As a jockey, he would have been unsurpassed. It filled his heart with
delight to play with the fierce, imperious animal he rode.

"Steady, my boy--no you don't!" This as Diablo stuck his neck straight
out like an arrow and sought to hold the bit tight against the bridle
teeth, that he might race at his own sweet will. Back came the right
hand, then the left, three vicious saws, and the bit was loose and
Diablo's head drawn down again close to the martingale. Lucretia and
Lauzanne were pulling to the front.

"Go on!" called Porter to Ned Carter; "I want to see the little mare in
her stride. Take them out at three-quarter gallop down the back stretch.
I'll be treading your heels off."

By this they were opposite the old stand, where Shandy was hiding. The
boy, surmising that a gallop was on, and anxious to see them as they
rounded the turn going down the back, had knocked a board loose to widen
the crack. As the horses came abreast, Shandy, leaning forward in his
eagerness, dislodged it at the top, and it fell with a clatter, carrying
him half through the opening. The wind was blowing fair across the
little stand, so the scent of the boy came to Diablo's nostrils at the
same instant the startling noise reached his nervous ears. In a swerve
he almost stopped, every muscle of his big body trembling in affright.
Porter was nearly thrown from his seat by this crouching side step;
the horse seemed to shrink from under him. Just for an instant, but the
reins had flapped loose against the wet neck and Diablo felt freedom.
With a snort he plunged forward like a wounded buck, and raced madly
after Lucretia, who had bolted when the crash came.

Porter had lost a stirrup in the sudden twist, and the reins had slipped
through his fingers as he grabbed the mane on Diablo's wither to pull
his weight back into the saddle.

Now the black neck was straight and taut, flatcapped by the slim ears
that lay close to the throatlatch. The thunder of his pounding hoofs
reached to the ears of Lucretia and Lauzanne in front, and urged them
onward. Carter had sat down in the saddle, and taken a steadying pull at
the brown mare. Even Lauz