"To the world's end," said the Man's Wife, and looked unspeakable things over
her near shoulder at the Tertium Quid.
He was smiling, but, while she looked, the smile froze stiff as it were on his
face, and changed to a nervous grin--the sort of grin men wear when they are
not quite easy in their saddles. The mare seemed to be sinking by the stem,
and her nostrils cracked while she was trying to realize what was happening.
The rain of the night before had rotted the drop-side of the Himalayan-Thibet
Road, and it was giving way under her. "What are you doing?" said the Man's
Wife. The Tertium Quid gave no answer. He grinned nervously and set his spurs
into the mare, who rapped with her forefeet on the road, and the struggle
began. The Man's Wife screamed, "Oh, Frank, get off!"
But the Tertium Quid was glued to the saddle--his face blue and white--and he
looked into the Man's Wife's eyes. Then the Man's Wife clutched at the mare's
head and caught her by the nose instead of the bridle. The brute threw up her
head and went down with a scream, the Tertium Quid upon her, and the nervous
grin still set on his face.
The Man's Wife heard the tinkle-tinkle of little stones and loose earth
falling off the roadway, and the sliding roar of the man and horse going down.
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