His next was, to return and alarm his
neighbors, and obtain their assistance. But a minute's delay might be
fatal; so he drove on, screaming "Fire! fire!" at the top of his voice.
But the old mare was a slow-footed animal; and Ducklow had no whip. He
reached forward and struck her with the reins.
"Git up! git up!--Fire! fire!" screamed Ducklow. "Oh, them bonds! them
bonds! Why didn't I give the money to Reuben? Fire! fire! fire!"
By dint of screaming and slapping, he urged her from a trot into a
gallop, which was scarcely an improvement as to speed, and certainly
not as to grace. It was like the gallop of an old cow. "Why don't ye go
'long!" he cried despairingly.
Slap, slap! He knocked his own hat off with the loose ends of the reins.
It fell under the wheels. He cast one look behind, to satisfy himself
that it had been very thoroughly run over and crushed into the dirt, and
left it to its fate.
Slap, slap! "Fire, fire!" Canter, canter, canter! Neighbors looked out
of their windows, and, recognizing Ducklow's wagon and old mare in such
an astonishing plight, and Ducklow himself, without his hat, rising from
his seat, and reaching forward in wild attitudes, brandishing the reins,
at the same time rending the azure with yells, thought he must be
insane.
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