"But a scrap of wet silk wouldn't be
much good to you. We'll have to chance a post."
He drew rein, trotting up to the fence, where he let the horse put his
nose over a post--and set his lips again when he saw that the top wire
was barbed.
"Just you remember to pick up all your toes well, old man," he said.
He trotted back a little way, and, turning, came hard at the fence,
putting Shannon directly at the post. This also was new to the chestnut;
but once, when a foal, he had been badly pricked on barbed wire, and,
ever since, one glance at its hideous spikes had been enough for him.
Refusing was out of the question--Wally was leaning forward, keeping
him absolutely straight, lifting him at the post with a little shout of
encouragement. He flew over it as if it had been a hurdle. Wally patted
his neck with a big sigh of relief.
"Eh, but I was scared for your legs, old man!" he said.
They galloped across a wide stubble field, while Wally's keen eyes
searched the fence for a gate. He caught sight of one presently, a
stiff, four-railed gate, considerably higher than the fence. High as it
was, Wally preferred it to barbed wire; and by this time he had a queer
feeling that no jump would prove too much for the big, honest chestnut,
who was doing so gamely everything that he was asked. Nor did Shannon
disappoint him; he rose at the gate cheerfully, and barely tipped it
with one hind foot as he cleared it.
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