He had turned, as the last shot struck his horns, down
hill, as if to cross the valley; but immediately, as if perceiving that
he had passed the last of his enemies, turned up again toward the
mountain, describing an arc, almost, in fact, a semi-circle, from the
point where he had broken covert to that--another gully, at perhaps a
short mile's distance--from which he was now aiming.
Across the chord, then, of this arc, Harry was driving furiously, with
the intent, as it would seem, to cut him off from the gully--the stone
wall crossed his line, but not a second did he pause for it, but gave
his horse both spurs, and lifting him a little, landed him safely at the
other side. Frank mounted rapidly, dashed after him, and soon passed
A---, who was less aptly mounted for a chase--he likewise topped the wall,
and disappeared beyond it, though the stones flew, where the bay struck
the coping with his heels.
All pluck to the back-bone, the Commodore craned not nor hesitated, but
dashed the colt, for the first time in his life, at the high barrier--he
tried to stop, but could not, so powerfully did his rider cram him--
leaped short, and tumbled head over heels, carrying half the wall away
with him, and leaving a gap as if a wagon had passed through it--to
Tom's astonishment and agony--for he supposed the colt destroyed
forever.
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