nent grunted when he felt the
jar of it. They rocketted and ricochetted; they were here, they
were there, they were everywhere, the buckskin squealing like a
pig, and fighting with every ounce of the strength that lay in his
steel strung legs; the dust rose in clouds; Red's hat flew in no
time; he was yelling like a maniac, and the crowd was yelling like
more maniacs. Now and then a glimpse of the rider's face could be
caught, transported with joy of the struggle; then the dust would
roll up and hide everything. No one was more pleased at the
spectacle than the blacksmith. He was capering in the middle of
the road, waving a hand-hammer and shouting "Hold him _down_! Hold
him DOWN! Why do you let him jump up like that? If _I_ was on
that horse I'd show you! Aw, there it is again--Stop him! _Stop_
him!"

At this point the buckskin made three enormous leaps for the
blacksmith, as though he had understood. The smith cast dignity to
the winds and went over the nearest fence in the style that little
boys, when coasting, call "stomach-whopper"--or words to that
effect--and took his next breath two minutes later. He might have
saved the labour, as the horse wheeled on one foot, and pulled
fairly for the picket fence opposite. Red regretted the absence of
herders as the sharp pickets loomed near. It was no time for
regrets. The horse was over with but little damage--a slight
scratch, enough to rouse his temper, however, for he whaled away
with both hind feet, and parts of the fence landed a hundred feet
off. Then a dash through an ancient grape arbor, and they were
lost to view of the road. Some reckless small boys scampered
after, but the majority preferred to trace the progress of the
conflict by the aboriginal "Yerwhoops" that came from somewhere in
behind the old houses.

"There they go!" piped up a shrill voice of the small-boy brigade.
"Right through Mis' Davisses hen coops!--you _ought_ to see them
hens FLY!" The triumphant glee is beyond the reach of words.
Simultaneous squawking verified the remark, as well as a feminine
voice, urging a violent protest, cut short by a scream of terror,
and the slam of a door. The inhabitants of "Mis' Davisses" house
instantly appeared through the front door, seeking the street.

To show the erraticalness of fate, no sooner had they reached the
road, than Red's mount cleared the parapet of the bridge in a
single leap--a beautiful leap--and came down upon them in the