As you can easily understand the explosion produced by this statement of mine rivaled Krakatoa.

We moved to the bar, Malua expostulating, and arguing, and getting madder by the minute. As drink followed drink, her friends joined in, adding fuel to the fire, but the more they tried to persuade me to change my mind, the more obstinate I became. Fortunately, before Malua could blow her top completely and crown me with a gourd or something, a gong sounded to announce that the sale was about to begin. This quickly cleared the bar.

Full of cheer I followed Malua, who stamped ahead in silence, sparks filling from her eyes, and her nostrils breathing fire. Without a word she plunked herself down on one of the tiered benches around the arena and gave her sarong a tug as if to keep it clear of vermin as I took my place beside her.

The show began with a lovely girl, encased in gleaming black leather from neck to toe, marching to the center of the ring, her jeweled heels flashing in the sun. On each side of her, keeping step, were two others similarly attired in red leather, each carrying a jewel-studded horn, on which as soon as they halted they blew a fanfare. The girl in black then took a couple of steps forward, the leather, which fitted her like a second skin, showing every line of her body, and in a loud voice announced the terms of sale, rules, regulations, and so on. There was another fanfare on the horns and the Parade began.

It really was a terrific show, and I was so spellbound that all I could do was just sit there and watch, as with halter held loosely in the left hand and quirt hanging by a loop from the right wrist, the little booted and belted grooms lead their lovely captives around, close to the spectators.

For a while she drifted along with such graceful rhythm that she even stood out from the others for that alone, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see Malua studying her keenly. She came nearer, and then, when dead opposite me - slump! down went one heel - throwing her, head back, her lips parted and eyes twinkling as she did so.

There was a prolonged gasp of amazement all around the ring while I just about split my sides, doing my best to cover up by much coughing and blowing my nose. Malua was so mad that she didn't notice my mirth until Suhanee, on the second time around, did it again, and then gave me one hell of a come-hither smile out of the corner of her eyes. Malua, her fingers biting into my arm, started to tick me off again, caught that look, and stopped suddenly in the middle of her tirade.

She studied my face keenly, then looked back at Suhanee, who was now floating along like a gazelle once more. Then she gave my arm a vicious tug. "What have you two been up to?" she whispered viciously.

"Nothing," I mumbled, "what on earth do you mean?"

For answer Malua first kicked me on the shin with a side swipe of her heel, and then dug the tip of it into my other foot, as I jumped with an "ouch!" Nothing more was said for a few seconds but I could hear her blowing like a steam pipe. Then I got a pinch and another jab with that heel.

"Fox," she said between her teeth, "if it's what I think it is, you just wait." Then another pinch, so I quietly grabbed her hand, which immediately began to wriggle violently, and held it, putting my feet on the hand rail in front of me out of the way of those stabbing heels.

The walking parade over, the ponies lined up on the far side and then were brought out one by one, attached to a long lead line. With the groom walking slowly in a circle in the center each girl would break into a run around the ring, first with the high-stepping gait, then with that smooth, effortless characteristic run which I had so often seen.

When eventually it came to Suhanee's turn, I wondered what she would do, but she pulled nothing dramatic. I suppose she realized that nothing she could do could mask the effortless power of her lovely legs.

Some time ago in Africa, I was lucky to be out on the veldt and to see for myself "the flight of the impala." The only thing I can say is that the impala had nothing on Suhance's high stepping. It was fantastic.

Malua had remained silent for quite a while, her hand, no longer wriggling, still in mine; but as Suhanee passed, she again tried to tug it away, and failing to do so, quickly gave me a pinch with the other one.

"Jimmy, you devil," she said, "you're nothing but a low-down horse trader. "You've got a winner there, if I saw one - but the other one for your team - you'll take a toss on her. Why not change your mind? Look, you see that dark-haired one, four back from Suhanee? She's good and I've heard quite a bit about her."

The girl she indicated was certainly a stunner, with long black wavy lustrous hair almost sweeping the ground, but I remained obdurate, and the show over, the sale itself began.

For some ponies the bidding was spirited. One snow-white blonde, with a great fuzzy mop of hair like a gollywog, and the dark haired girl, whom Malua had mentioned, causing considerable attention. The latter, obviously a solid wriggler had fought the cords which laced her arms from wrist to shoulder with every turn and twist she could manage continuously, even while running, for strands of that black mist had constantly crossed her face. I thought the rebellion on her part would be a deterrent and said so, but Malua pointed out that it didn't matter. A special harness was used for wrigglers from which it was impossible to escape, and that she was obviously unusually well coordinated and high-spirited, for in spite of the contortions of her body in even her most violent struggles, she had never lost the even rhythm of her run.

No one, of course, except yours truly was interested in poor old "heel-flopping" Suhanee, which was just as well, for I hadn't a cent of my own and had had to tap Pop Saunders's purse strings to be able to bid at all, and so the less I had to pay back the better. There was a murmur of protest when I claimed Suhahee, the crowd thinking that I, a newcomer, was getting a raw deal, but I remarked loudly that, I knew what I was doing, and that as long as I was satisfied what did it matter.

One old bloke, however, took me up on it, by leaning over and offering to lay me a hundred skins of wine to one (a skin is about five gallons) that she didn't even finish a race, a bet which I promptly and gladly accepted.

At last the sale was over and we again sauntered barwards where the grooms, their steeds once more tethered to the hitching rail in the stalls, went from new owner to new owner for orders and instructions.

When Suhanee's little groom approached me, I pushed my drink down my neck quickly and said I'd better see her myself, and started off at once for the stalls. There I told my lovely prize of the arrangements which had been made with Pop in regards to sharing the family stable until I got fixed up with a shack of my own.

She was obviously as happy and excited about it as I was, and kept nodding, her eyes shining, and her body squirming, her fingers stretching and clenching as if, I guessed, she wanted to do the normal feminine act of expressing pleasure by throwing her arms around my neck. This made me notice that the cord drawing her elbows back seemed to be cutting into the soft flesh pretty viciously. She had made no complaint, but nevertheless I thought it could be pretty uncomfortable. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I could loosen it, or tighten it if I chose. She was all mine now - to be kept helpless or not as my fancy dictated - a perfectly delightful thought.

I decided to ease it off, but putting my intention into practice was not too easy. The thin cord had been passed three or four times around both arms, cleverly and tightly tied and multiple-knotted in a most ingenious manner. It took time, but at last I got it loose and as I gently rubbed the red weals, which it had left on that satin skin, I heard a low "Ooh! Thank you" followed by a very audible sigh of relief; then slowly and gingerly she eased her arms, flexing them as much as her still captive wrists would allow.

I watched her wriggling fingers closely for a few moments to make sure that her hands would remain tied, and it occurred to me that whoever had done the tying knew what they were doing. It was very neatly and efficiently done, never shifting or slackening a fraction. I was sure that she could never get her wrists free and I told her so, and then added grinning, "But a wriggler is a wriggler, so I'm told; and in future I intend to leave nothing to chance. I just happen to be in a kind mood at the moment, Miss Mischief, that's all."

As I turned to ask the Tatt's groom what happened now, I noticed a little golden-haired girl talking eagerly to Malua. Then they both looked up at me smiling.

"Go on, you ask him," Malua said, pushing her forward - then to me, "her name's Joanne, Jimmy, and she wants to know if she can be Suhanee's groom."

"Is that so?" I replied - trying to look very solemn. "Are you fully qualified for that important position?"

"Oh, yes," said the lovely imp eagerly. "Suhanee and I are friends, she hasn't got heel trouble at all - and I know how fast she can run - it's been a secret - a really and truly secret secret and only she and I know it - and I haven't told anyone either - 'cept you.

"Well, well, well," I answered in my most austere voice. "That is really sump'n! But can you manage a wriggler like Suhanee?" "Oh, yes!" said the blonde wonder, "I'm very strict! When we're training, I beat her really hard if I don't think she's trying, and I can tie her up too - really tight! She never gets free when I tie her - not even if I only tie her hands! But I like doing a lot more than just tying her hands! I'll make ever so sure she can never escape from you."

"Ah'm," I grunted. "Is this a sample of your handiwork?" and I pointed to Suhanee's wrists.

Joanne nodded - all smiles.

I looked up at Suhanee. She was standing there no longer wriggling, her lips half parted and a far away look in her eyes. "Well?" I asked her. "How d'you like the idea?"

As if in a trance, she nodded.

"Then I guess you'll do," I said to Joanne, holding out my hand, which she took gravely. "Keep her in tiptop form because we've got a hard job ahead of us" - and leaving my pony to the tender mercies of this little tyrant, I followed Malua out to the parking lot.

On our way out I looked back once, and I'm damned if Joanne wasn't tying Suhanee's elbows again - dragging her arms back with all the strength of her little hands - a look of stern determination on her face.

I wouldn't have to worry about my ponies being kept on their toes and well disciplined - that was certain - but if this other one was as bad as Malua said, would Joanne and I between us be able to get her to run? It promised to be an interesting experiment.