voice. "Yes, he will try."

Again the empty saddle was filled, and a curious hush came over the
watching crowd. Diana looked on with bright, hard eyes, her heart
beating heavily. She longed passionately that the colt might kill him,
and, at the same time, illogically, she wanted to see him master the
infuriated animal. The sporting instinct in her acknowledged and
responded to the fight that was going on before her eyes. She hated him
and she hoped that he might die, but she was forced to admire the
wonderful horsemanship that she was watching. The Sheik sat like a
rock, and every effort made to unseat him was unsuccessful. The colt
plunged wildly, making furious blind dashes backward and forward,
stopping dead in the hope of dislodging his rider, twirling round
suddenly until it seemed impossible that he could keep his feet. Then
he started rearing, straight up, his forelegs beating the air, higher
and higher, and then down, to commence again without a moment's
breathing-space.

Diana heard Gaston's breath whistle through his teeth. "Look, Madame!"
he cried sharply, and Diana saw the Sheik give a quick glance behind
him, and, as the colt shot up again, almost perpendicular, with a jerk
he pulled him deliberately over backwards, leaping clear with a
tremendous effort as the horse crashed to the ground. He was in the
saddle again almost before the dazed creature had struggled to its
feet. And then began a scene that Diana never forgot. It was the final
struggle that was to end in defeat for either man or horse, and the
Sheik had decided that it was not to be for the man. It was a
punishment of which the untamed animal was never to lose remembrance.
The savagery and determination of the man against the mad determination
of the horse. It was a hideous exhibition of brute strength and