The horse was quite restive and apparently in much haste to start. One of the trio took the reins and the volunteer hostler, giving the horse his head, they started at a fast pace homeward.
It was very dark and deep snows of the winter, now mostly melted away, had left a rather uneven roadbed. There were frequent deep depressions into which the rapidly moving sleigh would sink with nerve-racking concussions. One of the passengers protested to the driver.
“What’s the use in driving so fast?” said he. “My teeth are all getting loose.”
The driver tugged on the reins.
“I don’t understand the nature of the beast,” he said. “Here, get hold of the reins with me and see if we can’t make him slow down a little.”
They tugged at the reins with all their combined strength, but apparently it only made the horse go faster. Accordingly they gave their principal attention to getting through the “cradle holes” with as little shock as possible. The fast pace of the horse was rapidly bringing them toward their home town and they soon saw the street lights. The horse evidently had but one object and that was to get the job over with and reach the stable and his own comfortable stall.
Moving down a long street at a very fast pace, the horse made a sudden sharp turn toward his stable. The sleigh, skidding violently across the wide, icy street, struck the curb and capsized, throwing the three heroes of the dance out upon the sidewalk together with the sleigh robes and other equipment.
The horse, with the sleigh still attached, then dashed up the street at a mad gallop toward the stable.
Gathering themselves up, somewhat shaken and bruised, but not seriously marred by their experience, the devoted three picked up the robes and blankets and made their limping way to the stable.
They found the horse and somewhat shattered sleigh being inspected by a much disgusted looking stable man.