I Was
Off Her Back And Into The Water That She Had Left In Less Time Than It
Takes To Write This.
I should not have thought of leaving her back
unless sure of my ground, for it is a canon in river crossing to stick
to your horse.
I pulled her gently out, and followed up the dark line
to the shore where my two friends were only too glad to receive me. By
the way, all this time I had had a companion in the shape of a cat in a
bag, which I was taking over to my place as an antidote to the rats,
which were most unpleasantly abundant there. I nursed her on the pommel
of my saddle all through this last stream, and save in the episode of
the quicksand she had not been in the least wet. Then, however, she did
drop in for a sousing, and mewed in a manner that went to my heart. I
am very fond of cats, and this one is a particularly favourable
specimen. It was with great pleasure that I heard her purring through
the bag, as soon as I was again mounted and had her in front of me as
before.
So I failed to cross this stream there, but, determined if possible to
get across the river and see whether the Irishman was alive or dead, we
turned higher up the stream and by and by found a place where it
divided. By carefully selecting a spot I was able to cross the first
stream without the waters getting higher than my saddle-flaps, and the
second scarcely over the horse's belly.
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