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between them. He found himself clutching with knees, feet, and hands,
careering violently with extraordinary oscillation through the air--his
axe gone heaven knows whither. "Hold tight," said Mother Instinct, and
he did.
He was aware of a lot of coarse hair in his face, some of it between his
teeth, and of green turf streaming past in front of his eyes. He saw the
shoulder of the Master Horse, vast and sleek, with the muscles flowing
swiftly under the skin. He perceived that his arms were round the neck,
and that the violent jerkings he experienced had a sort of rhythm.
Then he was in the midst of a wild rush of tree-stems, and then there
were fronds of bracken about, and then more open turf. Then a stream of
pebbles rushing past, little pebbles flying sideways athwart the stream
from the blow of the swift hoofs. Ugh-lomi began to feel frightfully
sick and giddy, but he was not the stuff to leave go simply because he
was uncomfortable.
He dared not leave his grip, but he tried to make himself more
comfortable. He released his hug on the neck, gripping the mane
instead. He slipped his knees forward, and pushing back, came into a
sitting position where the quarters broaden. It was nervous work, but he
managed it, and at last he was fairly seated astride, breathless indeed,
and uncertain, but with that frightful pounding of his body at any rate
relieved.
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