THEY'RE OFF 395 



side and he seemed to like it. From the way he step- 

 ped out of the stable yard around the corner and 

 down the main street, I began to think he was a cir- 

 cus horse, while the mare acted as light and jaunty 

 as a feather on your hat. In this way we started for 

 Cleveland, and at a clip which I knew would whirl 

 me east in short order. 



I did not know then, but I have learned it since, 

 that this chestnut mare was a noted runaway in those 

 parts and had been in scrapes without number. I 

 could never learn how many wagons she had wrecked 

 or how many owners she had had, but that is not here 

 or there, as I tamed her. 



The road from Elyria to Cleveland is a very good 

 one, being well gravelled and on high land. As Tom 

 was in grand road shape, and the mare acted very 

 free, I let them move along just enough, as it were, 

 to take the wire edge off. After going five or six 

 miles, I slowed them up a little, as both of them were 

 taking hold of the bit hard, and let them cool off. 

 From that time until I was within seven or eight 

 miles of Cleveland, I did not have much bother. 



In some way my whip, which had been strapped 

 to the top of the wagon, worked loose at one end 

 and made a slapping noise, something like a sliver 

 will on a rail fence on a windy day, but a little louder. 

 The mare did not like it and, as she looked around 

 at me, I could see the white of her eye. As she began 

 to fish for the bit or take hold of the iron, as the 

 drivers say, I could not stop and fix it. Then 

 the thought flashed through my head that if Tom 

 saw the whip he might forget all I had taught him. 

 What to do I did not know. Just then the mare be- 



