Sick with horror, she could see the mare rocketing wildly towards the brink
of the cliff. Almost she thought she could hear the thunderous beat of the
maddened hoofs racing the beat of her own heart as it thudded in her ears,
feel the wind of that reckless rush towards destruction. Nearer ... nearer
to the cliff's edge.... Ann's whole body stiffened convulsively in
anticipation of the inevitable catastrophe.
Then, just when it seemed as though the end were come, the mare gave
a shrill scream of terror and swerved violently in her stride, with a
suddenness that sent her staggering to her knees. She slithered along the
turf, then, scrambling to her feet, stood stock still, her head thrust
forward, snorting with fright.
What followed was so surprising that Ann, about to urge her pony onward,
pulled up in astonishment. In some miraculous way Brett had retained his
seat in the saddle, and instead of dismounting, as she expected him to do,
he lifted his arm and brought his crop hard down on the mare's quarters,
so that she leaped forward, and the next moment he was sending her along
as fast as she could gallop, while his arm rose and fell like a flail,
thrashing her unmercifully.
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