Blantyre drew the rein a little. "To the common, to the common, sir! She
has turned off there."

I knew this common very well. It was, for the most part, very uneven
ground, covered with heather and dark-green bushes, with here and there a
scrubby thorn tree. There were also open spaces of fine, short grass, with
ant-hills and mole turns everywhere--the worst place I ever knew for a
headlong gallop.

We had just turned on to the common, when we caught sight again of the
green habit flying on before us. My mistress's hat was gone, and her long
brown hair was streaming behind her. Her head and body were thrown back,
as if she were pulling with all her remaining strength, and as if that
strength were nearly exhausted. It was clear that the roughness of the
ground had very much lessened Lizzie's speed, and there seemed a chance
that we might overtake her.

While we were on the highroad, Lord Blantyre had given me my head; but
now, with a light hand and a practiced eye, he guided me over the ground
in such a masterly manner that my pace was scarcely slackened, and we
gained on them every moment.

About halfway across the common a wide dike had recently been cut and the
earth from the cutting cast up roughly on the other side. Surely this
would stop them! But no; scarcely pausing, Lizzie took the leap, stumbled
among the rough clods, and fell.

--Anne Sewell: _Black Beauty_.