at the frisky Bucephalus would
frisk his mistress out of the cart and break her ne--arm, or at least
put her shoulder out of joint. If he did, I had fully determined in my
own mind to hasten to her assistance, and shame her to death with
delicate and assiduous kindness. But fate lingered like all the rest
of us. She reached Rowley in safety, and there our roads separated.
Whether she stopped there, or drove into Ethiopian wastes beyond, I
cannot say; but have no doubt that the milk which she carried into
Newburyport to market was blue, the butter frowy, and the potatoes
exceedingly small.

Now do you mean to tell me that any man would have been guilty of such
a thing? I don't mean, would have committed such discourtesy to a
woman? Of course not; but would a man ever do it to a man? Never. He
might try it once or twice, just for fun, just to show off his horse,
but he never would have persisted in it till a joke became an insult,
not to say a possible injury.

Still, as I was about to say, when that Rowley jade interrupted me,
though I have small faith in Di-Vernonism generally, and no large faith
in my own personal prowess, I did feel myself equal to the task of
holding the reins while our Rosinante walked along an open road to a
pump. I therefore resented Halicarnassus's contemptuous tones, mounted
the wagon with as much dignity as wagons allow, sat straight as an
arrow on the driver's seat, took the reins in both hands,--as they used
to tell me I must not, when I was a little girl, because that was
women's way, but I find now that men have adopted it, so I suppose it
is all right,--and proceeded to show, like Sam Patch, that some things
can be done as well as others. Halicarnassus and the Anakim took up
their position in line on the other side of the road, hat in hand,
watching.

"Go fast, and shame them," whispered Grande, from the back-seat, and
the suggestion jumped with my own mood. It was a moment of intense
excitement. To be or not to be. I jerked the lines. Pegasus did not
start.

"C-l-k-l-k!" No forward movement.

"Huddup!" Still waiting for reinforcements.

"H-w-e." (Attempt at a whistle. Dead failure.)

(Sotto voce.) "O you beast!" (Pianiassimo.) "Gee! Haw! haw! haw!"
with a terrible jerking of the reins.

A voice over the way, distinctly audible, utters the cabalistic words,
"Two forty." Another voice, as audible, asks, "Which'll you bet on?"
It was not soothing. It did seem a