Читать книгу Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in France and Belgium. Or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles онлайн

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“Here’s the one chance in the world!”

Billy swung himself around and leaned forward like a trapeze performer in a circus, preparing for a high dive into a net.

The horse’s high-flung head just grazed the leaves of the big branch, bent down under the weight of the boys.

Billy dropped astride of the racing charger, saved from a heavy fall in the road by getting a quick neck hold, seized the loose bridle reins with convulsive grip and brought the foam-flecked animal to a standstill within fifty yards. This boy had tamed more than one frisky broncho down in Texas, U. S. A., and for a horse wearing the kind of a curb bit in his mouth that this one did, Billy had a sure brake-setting pull.

Henri made a cat-fall into the dusty road and right speedily got the hand-up from his mounted comrade.

Off they went on the trail to the open west, with clatter of hoofs, and the wind blowing free in the set, white faces of the gallant riders.

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“I don’t know where we are going, but we’re on the way,” sang Billy, whose spirits now ranged to a high pitch. “This beats anything we’ve rung up yet in our target practice over here,” he gloated. “Isn’t he a jolly old roadster?” Billy had checked the horse to a slow canter, after a run of two miles.