THE RENTED JUCYCJJi SLUT. 



2 5 



steel under control. I glanced across at 

 Walt. His set face had the right look in it. 

 That awful clatter, clangor, rumble, rumble, 

 sounded as loud as ever. And how we did 

 go! Every now and then we broke just a 

 trifle, just enough to keep our wheels under 

 control; while the banks, the grade, and 

 the gulch bottom seemed like one rapidly 

 revolving blur. 



We finally passed the last bad turn, and 

 I hoped the hayrack would tip there, for I 

 had not seen old Ford on the seat. The 

 road from here on was not so dangerous 

 though the grade was equally stiff. " I 

 don't wish old Ford any ill luck, but I hope 

 that old concern will go into the river," 

 yelled Walt, through his clenched teeth. 

 But old Ford was not' on, as we found out 

 later. The team had started of their own 

 accord, and the brake was knocked off the 

 first jump they made. 



" Stay with her," I yelled back, for my 

 oiled Victor had been forging ahead of 

 Walt till I was now 15 or 20 feet in the lead. 



" If we have good luck until we get to the 

 forks, we are all right." We knew once we 

 were at the forks, we could turn on to the 

 old wood road and let the team go on down 

 the grade. But now the water in my eyes 

 began to trouble me. It " was coming out 

 in chunks," as Walt expressed it afterward. 

 This awful clip was telling on us, and we 

 were now within a half mile of the forks. 



" Slack up a trifle before you get to the 

 forks," yelled Walt, " or you can't make the 

 turn." " All right," I answered. 



Recreation came very near not getting 

 this story; or at least not from my pen, for 

 Crash! went my front wheel against a rock 

 that had rolled down from the bank. Like 

 a streak of forked lightning, my wheel 

 darted from side to side, but with an intui- 

 tion that we find often comes to us, quicker 

 than thought, I had her righted again. I 

 recovered my breath and looked over at the 

 front wheel, but could see nothing wrong. 

 Walt was up even with me again. 



" A narrow escape," I muttered, more to 

 myself than to Walt. 



" I would call it a close shave," said he. 

 The forks of the roads were in sight now, 

 and we slackened up. 



" I don't think I hear the team," said 

 Walt. " Neither do I," was my answer. 

 The fork was just ahead of us, and now we 

 had slowed down to something like an or- 

 dinary fast clip. 



" Thank goodness! " I said to myself, as 

 I made the turn from the grade to the wood 

 road. Walt was just making the turn. His 

 foot went farther into the front fork than 

 he expected, and up went his rear wheel 

 like the subsequent end of a circus horse. 

 Over and over went rider and wheel, land- 

 ing high and dry on the soft bank of the 

 wood road. By this time, I had dis- 

 mounted, and was just starting to his as- 

 sistance, when he untangled himself, and 



dragging his wheel after him clambered up 

 the bank to the wood road. 



" Well, that was a hot ride, I'll swear," 

 were his first words; and, perspiring like 

 stokers on a steam-boat, we sat down on a 

 log. Then, when we found we were out of 

 danger we breathed naturally. 



" I agree with you," said I; "it was cer- 

 tainly pretty warm the first mile or two." 



' The horses must have taken a tumble 

 or they would have been along before this," 

 said Walt. 



Regaining our composure, we examined 

 our wheels. A piece the size of a lead pen- 

 cil was stripped from my front rim, the 

 result of my collision with the stray rock. 

 But the wheel was as solid as before. Walt 

 was not hurt; neither was his wheel, but 

 there was a rent in the seat of his trousers, 

 as large as your hand. I was about to tell 

 him of it when a happy thought struck me. 

 I would be revenged for his joke on me at 

 the last lodge dance. 



Finally the team showed up — coming at 

 a slow walk. They had rounded all the 

 turns safely, had run out their fright and 

 were now simply going home. We pulled 

 them out of the road and tied them up to 

 await the coming of old Ford. Then I 

 said: 



" Come on, let's be moving," and away 

 we went down the grade again, but with a 

 far more comfortable feeling than before. 



In a few minutes we were out of the 

 gulch and at the widow Schaefer's. Invited 

 to a seat on the front porch, a large, cool 

 glass of milk, a chat about the runaway, 

 and in the pleasant company of the young 

 ladies time flew rapidly. Finally we arose, 

 much refreshed, to continue our ride to the 

 junction. 



As Walt, with a polite tip of his cap, 

 started down the path to the gate, for the 

 first time the ladies noticed the rent in his 

 trousers. 



" Mr. Walters," said Miss Kate, " do you 

 know that — that you might catch cold by 

 having your clothing ventilated too freely? 

 Goodbye," and with a mischievous laugh 

 she disappeared in the house. 



" I wonder what Miss Kate meant by 

 ventilated clothing," said Walt. 



" I am sure I could not say," I answered 

 innocently, and changing the conversation 

 he soon forgot her remark. The coasting 

 part of our journey was now over, but for 

 all that, we made excellent time, and ar- 

 rived at the junction on the dot. Deposit- 

 ing our wheels in the baggage car, we 

 sauntered into the local coach. Only a few 

 passengers were aboard, and all these were 

 Martinsville people. Fortunately we were 

 all acquainted, and after a genial and gen- 

 eral conversation about our trip, in which 

 I did not forget to tell of Walt's fall, we 

 were nearly home before we realized we 

 had started. 

 Just before reaching Martinsville, I 



