Emily waited till the rider came fairly close, and said, "Poss,
this is Miss Grant."
The rider blushed, and lifted his hand to his hat. Fatal error! For
the hundredth-part of a second the horse seemed to cower under him
as if about to sink to the ground, then tucked his head in between
his front legs, and his tail in between the hind ones, forming
himself into a kind of circle, and began a series of gigantic
bounds at the rate of about a hundred to the minute; while in the
air above him his rider described a catherine wheel before he came
to earth, landing on his head at Miss Grant's feet. The horse was
soon out of sight, making bounds that would have cleared a house
if one had been in the way. The rider got up, pulled his hat from
over his eyes, brushed some mud off his clothes, and came up to
shake hands as if nothing had happened; his motto apparently being
toujours la politesse.
"My word, can't he buck, Poss!" said the child. "He chucked you
all right, didn't he?"
"He got a mean advantage," said the young fellow, in a slow drawl.
"Makes me look a fair chump, doesn't it, getting chucked before a
lady? I'll take it out of him when I get on him again. How d' you
do?"
"I'm very well, thank you," said Miss Grant. "I hope you are not
hurt. What a nasty beast! I wonder you aren't afraid to ride him."
"I ain't afraid of him, the cow! He can't sling me fair work, not
the best day ever he saw. He can't buck," he added, in tones of
the deepest contempt, "and he won't try when I've got a fair hold
of him; only goes at it underhanded. It's up to me to give him a
hidin' next time I ride him, I promise you."
"Where will he go to?" said Miss Grant, looking for the vanished
steed. "Won't he run away?"
"He can't get out of the paddick," drawled the youth. "Let's go
up to the house, and get one of the boys to run him in. He had a
go-in this morning with me--the bit came out of his mouth somehow,
and he did get to work proper. He went round and round the paddick
at home, with me on him, buckin' like a brumby. Binjie had to come
out with another horse and run me back into the yard. He's a pretty
clever colt, too. The timber is tremendous thick in that paddick,
and he never hit me against anything. Binjie reckons any other
colt'd have killed me. Come on up to the house, or he'll have my
saddle smashed before I get him."
As they hurried home, Miss Grant had a good look at the stranger--a
pleasant, brown-skinned brown-handed youth, with the down of a
black moustache growing on his upper lip. His frank and open face
was easy to read. He looked with boyish admiration at Miss Grant,
who immediately stooped to conquer, and began an animated conversation
about nothing in particular--a conversation which was broken in
upon by one of the girls.