“Harry must have company. His time is wasted unless he has a spectator––an audience––a witness––a historian. Without that, all his hair-breadth escapes would be thrown away. His stories would hang by a thread.

“‘We’ve only twenty-one minutes,’ he calls.

“I say to myself: ‘Damn the man whose money is like water and whose time is more precious than the last hour of Mahomet.’ Well, of course, there was plenty of money, but the supply of time was limited. To waste a second was to lose an opportunity for self-indulgence.

“I draw a check and take a hurried receipt and jump in.

7

“Away we go. ‘Look out!’

“The brakes grind, and we rise in the air a little as a small boy crosses our bows. We just missed him––thank God!

“‘Don’t be reckless, old man––go a bit slower.’

“‘It’s all right. We’ve a clear road now.’

“What a wind in our faces! There’s the track ahead.

“‘Look out! The train! God Almighty!’

“I spoke too late. We were almost up to the rails when I saw it. We couldn’t stop. Cleared the track in time. Felt the wind of the engine in my back hair, and then my scalp moved. Just ahead was a light buggy in the middle of the road and a bull, frightened by the cars, galloping beside it.

“In the excitement Harry hadn’t time to blow, and the roar of the train had covered our noise. The bull turned into the ditch and speeded up. We swerved between bull and buggy and grazed the side of the latter.

8

“I jumped and landed on the bull, and that saved me. It’s the first time that I ever knocked a bull down. He got to his feet swiftly beside me, bellowed, and took the fence. He was a fat, well-fed bull with a big, round, soft side on him. I never knew that a bull was so mellow. My feet sank deep, and he gave way, and I hit him again with another part of my person. I didn’t mean it, and felt for him, although it is likely that his feelings needed no further help from me. 

 Prev. P 6/79 next