the bullock, the bay pony and his rider swung in sharply
and the lash of Norah's whip shot out. The bullock stopped short,
shaking his head; then, as the whip spoke again, he wheeled and trotted
back meekly to the smaller mob. Behind him Norah cantered slowly. The
work of cutting out had not paused and no one seemed to notice the
incident. But Cecil saw his uncle smile across at the little girl, and
caught the look in Norah's eyes as she smiled back. She and Bobs took
up their station again, silently watchful.

Cecil was fired with ambition. Norah's small service had seemed to him
ridiculously easy; still, insignificant though everyone appeared to
regard it, it was better than doing nothing. He had not the faintest
doubt of his own ability, and the idea that riding in a decorous suburb
might not fit him for all equine emergencies he would have scouted. He
gathered up his reins, and waited anxiously for another beast to break
away.

One obliged him presently; a big shorthorn that decided he had stayed
long enough in the mob, and suddenly made up his mind to seek another
scene. Norah had already started in pursuit when she saw her cousin
send his spurs home in Betty, and charge forward. So she pulled up the
indignant Bobs, who danced, and left the field to Cecil.

Betty took charge of affairs from the outset. There was no move in all
the cattle-game that she did not understand. Moreover, she was justly
indignant at the spur-thrust, which attention only came her way in
great emergencies; and the heavy hand on her mouth was gall and
wormwood to her. But ahead was a flying bullock, and she was a stock
horse, which was sufficient for Betty.

"That feller brown mare got it all her own way!" said Billy, in
delight.

She had. Cecil, bumping a little in the saddle, had no very clear idea
of how things were going. He had a moment of amazement that the quiet
mare he had despised could make such a pace. Once he tried to steady
her, but at that instant Betty was not to be steadied. She galloped on,
and Cecil, recovering some of his self-possession, began to think that
this was the thing whereof he had dreamed.

The bullock was fat and scant of breath. It did not take him very long
to conclude that he had had enough, especially when he heard the hoofs
behind him. It was sad, for close before him was the shade of the trees
and the murmur of the river; but discretion is ever the better part of
valour, particularly if one be not o