It was a raw December afternoon, and little Mary Foley, her bare arms wrapped in her bib, waited on the top of the big ditch with breathless interest to see which would win, man or horse; and if Master Ulick would get the better of the baste? Her curiosity and anxiety were equally kindled. All the country knew, to use a local expression, “that Master Ulick’s riding bet all.” But, on the other hand, the horse looked a real savage, and the poor young gentleman might be hurted or killed. Anyhow, the Gripe was a terrible big lep. The Gripe was a huge, deep ditch at the taking-off side. The landing was on a big sound bank, the top of which was only a few feet above the level of the next field; it was a wide, but otherwise perfectly safe up-jump, and the brown horse had negotiated several others of the same description with ease; he could, and he would--and--he would _not_. During his exertions Ulick became aware of a figure in a fluttering blue pinafore, who was the sole spectator--a little girl, with a pair of remarkably neat black legs, who capered about on the top of the bank at a safe and discreet distance. It was the Foley child; he recognised her carroty head; she was not in the way at all, but what was she waiting for? He hated to see her watching him; he wished to goodness she would go home--indeed, he would be thankful to go home himself. As a last desperate expedient, he struck spurs into the sulky colt, and sent him round the field full gallop; wheeled suddenly, and brought him down to the fence at a pace that was terrific. The horse was taken unawares. No time now for stopping or propping: it was a case of in, or over; his own impetus carried him sheer off his legs; he made a spring--landed on the bank---- The little girl’s irrepressible yell of triumph died away on her lips when she beheld the hunter, after landing, stumble, lose his legs, and roll helplessly into the field, with his rider beneath him. At first she was too horrified to scream, or even stir. Surely to goodness they were both dead! Presently the brown colt scrambled to his feet, shook himself, sniffed at his prostrate rider, then trotted off with high knee action, trailing reins, and proudly waving tail, as much as to say, “I think I got the best of _that_!”