Follow My Leader | Page 6

heartily wished the
drive was at an end.
It was a flat road all the way to Mountjoy--no steep hill to breathe the
runaway, and no ploughed field to curb her ardour. It was a narrow
road, too, so narrow that, for two vehicles to pass one another, it was
necessary for one of the two to draw up carefully at the very verge. And
as the verge in the present case meant the edge of rather a steep
embankment, the prospect was not altogether a cheering one for an
inexperienced boy, who, if he knew very little about driving, knew
quite well that everything depended on his own nerve and coolness.
And Richardson not only had a head, but knew how to keep it. With a
rein tightly clutched in each hand, with his feet firmly pressed against
the footboard, with a sharp eye out over the mare's ears, and a grim
twitch on his determined mouth, he went over the chances in his own
mind.
"If she goes on like this, we shall get to Mountjoy in half an hour. What
a pace! We're bound to smash up before we get there! Perhaps these
fellows had better try and jump for it. Hallo! lucky we didn't go over
that stone! Wonder if I could pull her up if I got on her back? She

might kick up and smash the trap! Wonder if she will pull up, or go
over the bank, or what? Tom--Tom will have to run hard to catch us.
Whew! what a swing! I could have sworn we were over!"
This last peril, and the involuntary cry of the two boys clinging on
behind him, silenced even this mental soliloquy for a bit. But the
waggonette, after two or three desperate plunges, righted itself and
continued its mad career at the heels of the mare.
"What would happen if we went over? Jolly awkward to get pitched
over on to my head or down among the mare's feet! She'd kick, I guess!
Those fellows inside could jump and-- By Jove! there comes something
on the road! We're in for it now! Either a smash, or over the bank, or--
Hallo! there's a gate open!"
This last inward exclamation was caused by the sight of an open gate
some distance ahead, through which a rough cart-track branched off
from the road towards the sand-hills on the left. Richardson, with the
instinct of desperation, seized upon this as the only way of escape from
the peril which threatened them.
"Look out, you fellows!" cried he; "hang on tight on the right side
while we turn, and jump well out if we go over."
They watched him breathlessly as they came towards the gate. The
vehicle which was meeting them and their own were about equal
distance from the place, and it was clear their fate must be settled in
less than a minute.
Richardson waved to the driver of the approaching cart to pull up, and
at the same time edged the mare as far as he could on to the off-side of
the road, so as to give her a wide turn in.
"Now for it!" said he to himself, pulling the left rein; "if this don't do,
I'll give up driving."
The mare, perhaps weary, perhaps perplexed at the sight of the cart in
front, perhaps ready for a new diversion, obeyed the lead and swerved

off at the gate. For a moment the waggonette tottered on its left wheel,
and, but for the weight of the two passengers on the other side, would
have caught the gate post and shattered itself to atoms in the narrow
passage.
As it was, it cleared the peril by an inch, and then, plunging on to the
soft, rough track, capsized gently, mare and all, landing its three
occupants a yard or two off with their noses in the mud.
It was an undignified end to an heroic drive, and Richardson, as he
picked himself up and cleared the mud from his eyes, felt half
disappointed that no bones were broken or joints dislocated after all.
Coote did certainly contribute a grain of consolation by announcing
that he believed one of his legs was broken. But even this hope of glory
was short-lived, for that young hero finding no one at leisure to assist
him to his feet rose by himself, and walked some distance to a grass
bank where he could sit down and examine for himself the extent of his
injuries.
"Wal, young squire," said a voice at Dick's side, as that young
gentleman found eyesight enough to look about him, "you've done it
this time."
The owner of the voice was the driver of the cart, and the tones and
looks with which he made the