THE LAST CHANCE. 399 



Men tell that when drowning your whole life pas- 

 ses before you, as it were, in review and I believe it. 

 In the span of a few seconds all that I had ever done 

 or said seemed to come and go, these thoughts being 

 as it were, a vivid background of what was going on 

 around me. I was sure I was going to my death, as 

 it would not require much of a bend in the road to 

 send me with the wagon and horses rolling down 

 among the rocks, stumps and logs, into the water. 



As the wagon began to make the dip in the road, 

 it flashed on me to jump and let the pair get out of it 

 the best way they could. As I raised in the seat the 

 wagon lurched and tilted me back- I threw out my 

 left hand to save myself from falling between the 

 wheels. It struck near a small guard rail which ran 

 around the top of it and, striking the whip, broke it 

 loose. As the whipstock rolled under my hand, I 

 grabbed it, and with the familiar feel of it came the 

 thought "would I strike Tom." If he failed me I 

 could still jump. Swinging around I made another 

 pull on the reins but it was no use, my arms were 

 numb. At last in desperation, setting the brake with 

 my foot, I raised the whip in my left hand and gave 

 it a whirl around my head in order to get the lash free. 

 I could hear the lash hiss and saw it knit into Tom's 

 hide as it fell like a white band from the point of the 

 shoulder to his quarters, then all was a blank. 



The balance of the story was told to me a few 

 days later as I lay on a cot in a little brown house 

 under the hill and near the bank of the stream which 

 I learned was called Rocky River. The man who 

 related it was going towards Cleveland when he saw 

 my team coming at runaway speed. In order to be 



