With a yell to his horse the boy sprang into the
saddle. The animal bounded forward, snorting and buck-plunging, his eye
wild, his nostril wide. Flung with apparent carelessness in the saddle,
the rider, his body swaying and bending and giving gracefully to every
bound, waved his broad hat, uttering shrill _yips_ of encouragement and
admonition to his mount. The horse straightened out and thundered swift
as an arrow toward the tree that marked the turning point. With
unslackened gait, with loosened rein, he swept fairly to the tree. It
seemed to Bob that surely the lad must overshoot the mark by many yards.
But at the last instant the rider swayed backward and sidewise; the
horse set his feet, plunged mightily thrice, threw up a great cloud of
dust, and was racing back almost before the spectators could adjust
their eyes to the change of movement. Straight to the group horse and
rider raced at top speed, until the more inexperienced instinctively
ducked aside. But in time the horse sat back, slid and plunged ten feet
in a spray of dust and pine needles, to come to a quivering halt. Even
before that young Pollock had thrown himself from the saddle.
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