id not come at six nor seven, nor
eight, and it was nearly nine o'clock before he called for me, and then
it was with a loud, rough voice. He seemed in a very bad temper, and
abused the hostler, though I could not tell what for.

The landlord stood at the door and said, "Have a care, Mr. Smith!" but
he answered angrily with an oath; and almost before he was out of the
town he began to gallop, frequently giving me a sharp cut with his whip,
though I was going at full speed. The moon had not yet risen, and it was
very dark. The roads were stony, having been recently mended; going over
them at this pace, my shoe became looser, and as we neared the turnpike
gate it came off.

If Smith had been in his right senses he would have been sensible of
something wrong in my pace, but he was too drunk to notice.

Beyond the turnpike was a long piece of road, upon which fresh stones
had just been laid--large sharp stones, over which no horse could be
driven quickly without risk of danger. Over this road, with one shoe
gone, I was forced to gallop at my utmost speed, my rider meanwhile
cutting into me with his whip, and with wild curses urging me to go
still faster. Of course my shoeless foot suffered dreadfully; the hoof
was broken and split down to the very quick, and the inside was terribly
cut by the sharpness of the stones.

This could not go on; no horse could keep his footing under such
circumstances; the pain was too great. I stumbled, and fell with
violence on both my knees. Smith was flung off by my fall, and, owing to
the speed I was going at, he must have fallen with great force. I soon
recovered my feet and limped to the side of the road, where it was free
from stones. The moon had just risen above the hedge, and by its light
I could see Smith lying a few yards beyond me. He did not rise; he made
one slight effort to do so, and then there was a heavy groan. I could
have groaned, too, for I was suffering intense pain both from my foot
and knees; but horses are used to bear their pain in silence. I uttered
no sound, but I stood there and listened. One more heavy groan from
Smith; but though he now lay in the full moonlight I could see no
motion. I could do nothing for him nor myself, but, oh! how I listened
for the sound of horse, or wheels, or footsteps! The road was not much
frequented, and at this time of the night we might stay for hours before
help came to us. I stood watching and listening. It was a calm, sweet
Apr