I'm afeard she'll do some mischief afore we've done with her; and Miss Falkland's that game as she won't have nothing done to her.

I'd ride the tail off her but what I'd bring her to, if I had my way.' So this was the brute that had got away with Miss Falkland, the day we were coming back from Bundah.

Some horses, and a good many men and women, are all pretty right as long as they're well kept under and starved a bit at odd times.

But give them an easy life and four feeds of corn a day, and they're troublesome brutes, and mischievous too.
It seems this mare came of a strain that had turned out more devils and killed more grooms and breakers than any other in the country.

She was a Troubadour, it seems; there never was a Troubadour yet that wouldn't buck and bolt, and smash himself and his rider, if he got a fright, or his temper was roused.