Myrna cracked the whip before the pony's outstretched nose and suddenly he slowed down to a walk. It would not do to run the tiny horse into the ground. After all, she wanted him to be able to perform. Crack! Myrna used the whip to bring Clyde to a halt.
"Dismount, Joan," she ordered.
The girl got off without speaking. She was too much out of breath to utter a sound. When she was on the ground she leaned against the horse's flank for support while her tiredness overcame her. Her face was nearly purple from the tight collar and mutely her fingers fumbled with it.
Myrna saw the movement and popped the whip beside Joan's ear. "Leave it on!!"
But Joan knew that if she did, she would soon pass out from the blood gorging her head. Awkwardly and still unable to catch her breath to the point t
