Part 4 (2/2)

In a little while he began to look back, and touch the animal gently with the whip, when he thought he was out of sight. Racing appeared to Sam to be capital fun. Instead of taking the nearest way to the village, he turned at the first cross-road, along which he could pursue his harmless amus.e.m.e.nt in a quiet and unostentatious manner.

In a few minutes he had lashed the horse into what is familiarly termed a ”keen jump.” The fences, the stones, the grove, with its deepening shadows, seemed to be on a ”keen jump” in the opposite direction. The boy screamed with delight, and still plied the whip. Suddenly his straw hat was taken off by the wind, and went fluttering over the animal's crupper.

This was an unforeseen catastrophe; and, fearing lest he should not be able to find the lost article on his return, Sam attempted to slacken speed. But the animal manifested a perfect indifference to all his efforts. He sawed on the bit, and cried _whoa_, in vain. Frank was not a horse to be whipped for nothing, and he now meant to have his share of the fun. He seemed almost to fly. The rider became alarmed, and, to increase his fright, his left foot slipped out of the stirrup. In an instant he found himself bounding in a fearful manner over the pommel, then on the animal's neck. He cleared his right foot, abandoned the reins, and clung to saddle and mane with all his might. But he somehow lost his balance; he then experienced a disagreeable sensation of falling; and, after a confused series of disasters, of which he had but a numb and sickening consciousness, he made a discovery of himself, creeping out of a brier-bush, on the road-side.

The first object that attracted his attention was a riderless horse darting up the next hill, a quarter of a mile off; and here we must leave the bold adventurer, limping slowly, and with much trouble, over the road, in the dim hope of catching, at some future time, a fleet animal, going at the rate of fifteen miles an hour.

After sending Sam with the horse, Chester walked towards the house; but the family there a.s.sembled appearing to be in a sad state of confusion generally, he stopped before reaching the door. Willie was shrieking in the shed, and striking his cousin Hepsy, because she insisted on was.h.i.+ng his feet before putting him to bed. Georgie was in the kitchen, blubbering sullenly; he had seen Sam trot Frank out of the yard, and was angry at losing the ride he had antic.i.p.ated on Chester's return. Lizzie was trying to get a book away from Sarah, with much ado, and Mrs. Royden was scolding promiscuously.

”What a home to cheer a fellow, after six months' absence!” murmured the young man, feeling sick at heart; ”and it would seem so easy to make it cheerful and pleasant!”

He turned away, and, walking into the orchard, met his brother James.

”Hasn't father returned?” he asked.

”Oh, yes; two hours ago.”

”Did he bring my trunks?”

”Yes,” said James; ”and a load he had of it. The old minister is come, with baggage enough of his own to last, I should think, a year or two.”

Chester expressed some disagreeable sentiments touching the old clergyman's visit, and walked with James into the lane, behind the barn, to find his father.

Mr. Royden was rejoiced to meet his long-absent son.

”You milk the old red cow yet, I see,” said Chester.

”Yes,” replied his father, continuing the humble occupation; ”I suppose I shall have to as long as we keep her.”

”How many times that foot of hers has knocked over a frothing pail for me!” rejoined Chester.

”I don't know why it is, but n.o.body except me can do anything with her,”

said Mr. Royden. ”The hired men are as afraid of her foot as of a streak of lightning. Sometimes, when I am away, the boys try to milk her; but she thinks she has a perfect right to knock them around as she pleases.

I believe it is because they are not gentle; they fool with her, and milk so slow that she gets out of patience; then, when she kicks, they whip her. That's no way, James. You see, I never have any trouble with her. I'd rather milk her than any cow in the yard; I never knew her to kick but once or twi--”

”This is the third time!” said Chester, laughing.

While his father was speaking the cow's foot had made one of its sudden and rapid evolutions. The pail was overturned; the milk was running along the ground, and the animal was running down the lane.

Mr. Royden got up from the stool, and looked at mischief she had done, with a blank expression.

”You didn't get spattered, I hope?” said he.

”No, I think not;” and Chester pa.s.sed his hand over his clothes.

<script>