Mountain Ponies

'Line 'em up, ' the starter barks. 'We haven't got all day! ' As twenty of the Snowy's best are gathered for the fray. The starter fired his pistol high and suddenly, they're off! And twenty pairs of frenzied hooves go thundering down the rough. They're bunched up tight before the pass, and leading from the sway, the winner of last year's event, Bob Wilson, on his bay. A stranger on a dappled mare rides easy in the pack. Waiting for the moment to let the mare attack. They're streched out now before the climb through stringy bark and brush, and Wilson on his mighty bay, rides fiercely from the push. They forge the creek at Yabby Traps with saddles now awash. They're keen of eye and sure of foot these ponies of the bush. The stranger on his dappled mare keep up a steady pace. They bridge the gap to Wilson's bay before the mountain face. He coaxes her with, 'go on girl, ' and let's the reins go slack. With every stride she catches up until they clear the pack. The steep descent down Blind Man's gorge is treacherous that day. The ground is hard, as hard as flint, and doesn't suit the bay. Wilson sees the stranger pass upon his bonny mare, gliding down the mountain slope as though the ground weren't there. He spurs the bay for extra pace, he spurred him once again. The big horse baulks, then trips and falls, whinnying in pain. The stranger and his dappled mare are clearly out of sight, as Wilson mounts the injured bay, who's given up the fight. The legend goes the stranger won, but didn't claim the purse. He rode for sport to prove to all, he had the better horse.