The Sheik

Again she looked at the Sheik and ground her teeth. He was stooping to

light a cigarette from a match that Gaston was holding, and then they

walked together nearer to the colt. The animal was now thoroughly

maddened, and it was increasingly difficult to hold him. They went up

close to the struggling, yelling grooms, and the next minute Diana saw

Gaston sitting firmly in the empty saddle. The little man rode

magnificently, and put up a longer fight than the others had done, but

at last his turn came, and he went flying over the colt's head. He came

down lightly on his hands and knees, and scrambled to his feet in an

instant amidst a storm of shouts and laughter. Laughing himself he came

back to the Sheik with a shrug of the shoulders and outspread, eloquent

hands. They spoke together for a moment, too low for Diana to hear, and

then Ahmed Ben Hassan went again into the middle of the ring. Diana's

breath came more quickly. She guessed his intention before he reached

the colt, and she moved forward from under the awning and joined

Gaston, who was wrapping his handkerchief round a torn hand.

"Monseigneur will try?" she asked a little breathlessly.

Gaston looked at her quickly. "Try, Madame?" he repeated in a queer

voice. "Yes, he will try."

Again the empty saddle was filled, and a curious hush came over the

watching crowd. Diana looked on with bright, hard eyes, her heart

beating heavily. She longed passionately that the colt might kill him,

and, at the same time, illogically, she wanted to see him master the

infuriated animal. The sporting instinct in her acknowledged and

responded to the fight that was going on before her eyes. She hated him

and she hoped that he might die, but she was forced to admire the

wonderful horsemanship that she was watching. The Sheik sat like a

rock, and every effort made to unseat him was unsuccessful. The colt

plunged wildly, making furious blind dashes backward and forward,

stopping dead in the hope of dislodging his rider, twirling round

suddenly until it seemed impossible that he could keep his feet. Then

he started rearing, straight up, his forelegs beating the air, higher

and higher, and then down, to commence again without a moment's

breathing-space.

Diana heard Gaston's breath whistle through his teeth. "Look, Madame!"

he cried sharply, and Diana saw the Sheik give a quick glance behind

him, and, as the colt shot up again, almost perpendicular, with a jerk

he pulled him deliberately over backwards, leaping clear with a

tremendous effort as the horse crashed to the ground. He was in the

saddle again almost before the dazed creature had struggled to its

feet. And then began a scene that Diana never forgot. It was the final

struggle that was to end in defeat for either man or horse, and the

Sheik had decided that it was not to be for the man. It was a

punishment of which the untamed animal was never to lose remembrance.

The savagery and determination of the man against the mad determination

of the horse. It was a hideous exhibition of brute strength and

merciless cruelty. Diana was almost sick with horror from the

beginning; she longed to turn away, but her eyes clung fascinated to

the battle that was going on. The hush that had fallen on the crowd had

given way to roars of excitement, and the men pressed forward eagerly,

to give back precipitately when the still-fighting animal's heels

flashed too near.