Horn descent

I dropped straight into the wide brass flare of that hunting horn without second thoughts! The interior curved like a polished golden slide, sending my boots skidding along the smooth metal taper. Halfway down the narrowing coil, my shoulders jammed snug against the brass tubing. Perfect reflex drill! I kicked both heels against the interior curve, dug my curved hands into the rim above, and levered my body upside-down. With one sharp heave, I popped out of the horn mouth and landed balanced on the felt beside a vintage tin of saddle soap.