'Whoay!' roared Thornton, as his first dive at the stirrup missed, and was
answered by a hearty kick out from the horse, the 'whoay' being given in a
very different tone to the gentle, coaxing style of Mr. Buckram and his
men. Had it not been for the brandy within and the lookers-on without,
there is no saying but Caingey would have declined the horse's further
acquaintance. As it was, he quickly repeated his attempt at the stirrup
with the same sort of domineering 'whoay,' adding, as he landed in the
saddle and snatched at the reins, 'Do you think I stole you?'
Whatever the horse's opinion might be on that point, he didn't seem to care
to express it, for finding kicking alone wouldn't do, he immediately
commenced rearing too, and by a desperate plunge, broke away from the
groom, before Thornton had either got him by the head or his feet in the
stirrups. Three most desperate bounds he gave, rising at the bit as though
he would come back over if the hold was not relaxed, and the fourth effort
bringing him to the opposite kerb-stone, he up again with such a bound and
impetus that he crashed right through Messrs.
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