A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill

								

The Colonel gasped, partly from strangulation, and partly from
amazement.
“Prince!” he cried. “Well, I reckon not! That colt's hardly broken to
the saddle. He threw Jimpson last week.”
“Well, I'm not Jimpson. Please, Daddy, just this once.”
“If that's the little beast Wick was telling me about,” said Morley, “we
are certainly not going to trust you on him.”
The Colonel leaned back upon his knees where he knelt on the porch, and
glared at Morley.
“Who do you mean by we?”
“The conservative party of which I, for once, am a member. From all I
can hear of that colt, no girl could handle him.”
“You are absolutely mistaken, sir! I taught my daughter to straddle a
horse before I taught her to walk. Handle him? Of course she can handle
him! Jimpson!” he roared in conclusion, “put the side-saddle on Prince!”

CHAPTER II

The Cane Run Road lay straight ahead, now white under the full light of
the sun, now dappled with tiny dancing shadows from the interlaced twigs
overhead, new clothed in their garb of green. White and purple violets
peeped from the fence corners, and overhead the birds made busy in the
branches.
Two young people, flushed and smiling, drew rein and looked at each
other. In the eyes of each was a challenge.
“I'll race you to the mill!” cried Miss Lady, tugging at her bridle.
“Don't start 'til I give the word. Now, go!”
Off through the smiling, sunlit fields they dashed, too impetuous and
young, and gloriously free, to waste a thought on that inexorable wheel
of life, upon which sooner or later the most irresponsible must break
their wings. On and on they went, neck to neck, the gallop breaking into
a run. Down past the blacksmith's, past the old mill which was to have
been the goal, through the long covered bridge, over the hill and out
again on the level road where they still kept abreast.
And close upon them, with head up and mane flying, came another steed,
free, irresponsible, unbridled, invisible. It was Romance, pounding in
their wake; Romance, whose hoof beats made their pulses dance in unison,
whose breath upon their cheeks made them laugh for joy in the face of
the wind.
They were almost to the city now, having reached that slovenly suburb
that had given its plebeian name to the once aristocratic neighborhood.
Clouds of dust whirled in their wake, and stones flew right and left
under the horses' hoofs; men in carts pulled their teams to the side
of the road to let the mad pair pass; dogs dashed from dark doorways,
barking furiously.
Suddenly, just as they neared the railroad junction, the sharp whistle
of an engine sent Prince plunging into the air. Donald rose in his
stirrups and made a frantic clutch at the horse's head, but even as he
missed it, he heard the clanging signal for an approaching train and saw