Nan Sherwood at Rose Ranch

But perhaps a much better trained and better-tempered animal would have done the same. She jerked the loop of her bridle-rein off Prince’s saddlehorn in that first jump. Then she was away like the wind, her little hoofs spurning the gravel of the path that crossed the school’s athletic field and led to the broad steps that led down the face of the cliff to the boathouse and cove.