BLACK LARRY 163 



end of the tiny village. It was a green-painted 

 affair, with an outhouse for the pony and trap; 

 a green-painted paHsading, about five feet high, 

 surrounded house and garden, and as the car 

 passed through the village and approached the 

 danger zone Miss Grimshaw felt a not unpleasant 

 constriction about the heart. Effie seemed to feel 

 it too, for she clasped Mrs Brown's ^Oliday Outin's, 

 which she had brought to read in the train, closer 

 under her arm, and clasped Miss Grimshaw's 

 hand. There was no sign of the ogre, however, 

 in the front garden, and the girl heaved a sigh of 

 relief, till French, who had stood half up to get a 

 better view of the premises, suddenly sat down 

 again, with a look of alarm on his face, and cried 

 to Doolan to whip up. 



" What is it? " asked Miss Grimshaw. 



"The blackguard's putting the old pony to," said 

 Mr French. " I caught a glimpse of him in the 

 back yard. He's got wind of our going, and he's 

 after us. Whip up, Doolan." 



"There's not much use whipping up," said Miss 

 Grimshaw, "for the train won't go till eleven. The 

 question now is, can his old pony get him to the 

 station by eleven? " 



" If it does," cried French, now in a towering 

 passion, " I'll — I'll—b'God, I'll shoot him." 



" You haven't anything to shoot him with. 

 Let's think of what's best to be done." 



" Doolan! " shouted French into the hairy ear of 

 the driver, " do you know Mr Giveen's old pony? " 



