When a horse takes it into his head to go home, with a view of having a good meal, the attraction seems to become stronger from the moment he makes the first move.
Bud Heyland's animal began with a very moderate pace, but he increased it so rapidly that by the time the angry driver was on the run, the quadruped was going almost equally as fast.
In the hope of scaring the brute into stopping Bud shouted:
"Whoa! whoa! Stop, or I'll kill you!"
If the horse understood the command, he did not appreciate the threat, and, therefore, it served rather as a spur to his exertion, for he went faster than ever.
It is well known, also, that under such circumstances the sagacious animal is only intent on reaching home with the least delay, and he does not care a pin whether his flight injures the vehicle behind him or not. In fact, he seems to be better pleased if it does suffer some disarrangement.
When, therefore, the animal debouched from the wood into the faint light under the stars he was on a gallop, and the wagon was bounding along from side to side in an alarming way. Bud was not far behind it, and shouting in his fiercest manner, he soon saw that he was only wasting his strength. He then ceased his outcries and devoted all his energies to overtaking the runaway horse.
"It'll be just like him to smash the wagon all to flinders," growled Bud, "and I'll have to pay for the damages."
As nearly as could be determined, horse and lad were going at the same pace, the boy slightly gaining, perhaps, and growing more furious each minute, for this piece of treachery on the part of the horse.
Some twenty yards separated the pursuer from the team, when a heavy, lumbering wagon loomed to view ahead.