Read "The Splendid Spur" by Arthur Quiller-Couch online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
And now I did indeed abandon myself to despair. Few would have given a groat for my life, with that crew at my heels; and I least of all, now that my dear comrade was lost. The wound in my shoulder was bleeding sore -- I could feel the warm stream welling -- yet not so sore as my heart. And I pressed my knees into the saddle flap, and wondered what the end would be.
The sorrel mare was galloping, free and strong, her delicate ears laid back, and the network of veins under her soft skin working with the heave and fall of her withers: yet -- by the mud and sweat about her -- I knew she must have travelled far before I mounted. I heard a shot or two fired, far up the road: though their bullets must have fallen short: at least, I heard none whiz past. But the rebels' shouting was clear enough, and the thud of their gallop behind.