Leaving the cornfield, the Huntsman dashed through the woods to the rim, hollered, "C’mon!", touched heels to his horse, and plunged over. As my horse reached the spot, I clapped my legs tightly. The little horse never hesitated. Down, down, down (truly, this was worth three downs) he butt-slid past saplings and trees, descending the pathless ravine slope courageously. He slopped through the muddy bottom, bounded into the stream, haunches gathering to charge the opposite side. Halfway up, we clattered over a broken culvert to lunge finally out onto a dirt roadway. "OMyGod!!" I gasped. "Get to them!" he bellowed, giving me no time to wonder about what I’d just ridden. Hounds needed stopping and the little horse gallantly got me there!
Horse being washed
5 years ago