"A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse."
One man who was nervous wanted to drive forty miles across camp to
Rosario, Santa Fé, and one of us who was not nervous said he would
drive the pair of greys; one had been in harness twice and the other
not at all; but the trap and harness were strong. So when the driver
went to start and found them loading chains and ironware in case there
was a runaway, he had it out again; there are no fences or ditches and
all there was to do if they did runaway was to head for Rosario, they
did, after trying if they could fly, horses buck here more than they
kick, and when they wanted to stop the driver prevailed on them with a
whip to keep on till one tried to fall down and nearly pulled him over
the dashboard, but they got to town. Talking of bucking; we have some
prize-takers. We all tried one and no one could stay on. Sometimes
a piece of wood is used which you tie in front and push your knees
under, or a blanket rolled up helps. Another, a beautiful labuno, was
brought for me one day, the Señora who knew the horse, asked if I was
a domador which I am not at all, she said "better not get on" and next
day I knew she was right. Our best rider was going to try but the
horse went around in circles at the end of a lasso, bucking like an
airy fiend, everything flying till he broke away and no one got near
him for hours, then he was captured with bolas, all this is different
from hunting or riding races, the horse seems to express his opinions
more freely and forcibly here, and one wants a special education. In
Australia I know there is plenty of bucking, but I never was there,
we had some horses from there in China, one of them (F--s) bucked his
saddle over his head and never broke the girths. I did not see this
but it is true. Another fell in a race and would not get up although
fire-crackers were let off among his legs; then they tied a chain to
him and dragged him away. Don't know if he ever got up. One Tartar
pony I knew ran away with a Consul and up forty steps into the grand
stand, another in a race jumped on top on one of these wide mud walls,
and as he had his fore legs one side and hind legs the other he had to
be taken off. I was riding in these races and we had no end of fun;
last a week, but two men were nearly killed and one horse quite.
[Illustration: Russian Consul Going for the Grand Stand--Shanghai.]
[Illustration: "Get on Ferguson."]
[Illustration: One on the Wall.]
[Illustration: A Bad 'un to Mount.]
[Illustration: Lloyd's "Crumpler" on Miss Louise. Steeple. Flat.]