They had not very far to go , but Moti 's little pony , weighted with a heavy man and two big rocks , soon began to lag behind the cavalry , and would have lagged behind the infantry too , only they were not very anxious to be too early in the fight , and hung back so as to give Moti plenty of time . The young man jogged along more and more slowly for some time , until at last , getting impatient at the slowness of the pony , he gave him such a tremendous thwack with his staff that the pony completely lost his temper and bolted . First one stone became untied and rolled away in a cloud of dust to one side of the road , whilst Moti nearly rolled off too , but clasped his steed valiantly by its ragged mane , and , dropping his staff , held on for dear life . Then , fortunately the other rock broke away from his other leg and rolled thunderously down a neighbouring ravine . Meanwhile the advanced cavalry had barely time to draw to one side when Moti came dashing by , yelling bloodthirsty threats to his pony : ` You wait till I get hold of you ! I 'll skin you alive ! I 'll wring your neck ! I 'll break every bone in your body ! ' The cavalry thought that this dreadful language was meant for the enemy , and were filled with admiration of his courage . Many of their horses too were quite upset by this whirlwind that galloped howling through their midst , and in a few minutes , after a little plunging and rearing and kicking , the whole troop were following on Moti 's heels . Far in advance , Moti continued his wild career . Presently in his course he came to a great field of castor-oil plants , ten or twelve feet high , big and bushy , but quite green and soft . Hoping to escape from the back of his fiery steed Moti grasped one in passing , but its roots gave way , and he dashed on , with the whole plant looking like a young tree flourishing in his grip . The enemy were in battle array , advancing over the plain , their king with them confident and cheerful , when suddenly from the front came a desperate rider at a furious gallop . ` Sire ! ' he cried , ` save yourself ! the enemy are coming ! ' ` What do you mean ? ' said the king . ` Oh , sire ! '
panted the messenger , ` fly at once , there is no XXXXX to lose .
body career courage fight heels leg rock rocks temper time