[Illustration: The stout cob dashed of at a gallop, with David
holding on to the pommel.]
Then the little fellow felt that he was being jerked and knocked
and bruised, as the horse tore along with David, head and neck
stretched out. There was a rush under some low boughs, and another
rush over a patch of brambles and tall bracken; then the cob made a
bold dash at a dense mass of low growth, when there was a violent
jerk as he made a bound, followed by a feeling as if the boy's arms
were being torn out at the shoulders, a rush through the air, a
heavy blow, and a sensation of tearing, and all was, giddiness and
pain.
CHAPTER II
It is not nice to be pitched by a man off a horse's back on to the
top of your head.
That is what young Robin thought as he sat up and rubbed the place,
looking very rueful and sad.
But he did not seem to be entirely alone there in the dense forest,
for there was another young robin, with large eyes and a speckled
jacket, sitting upon a twig and watching him intently. Robin could
think of nothing but himself, his aching head, and his scratches,
some of which were bleeding.
Then he listened, and fancied that he heard shouting, with the
trampling of mules and the breaking of twigs.
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