Jenny, sidling as far as she could in the traces, her ears flat, started. Duke stayed. Consequently, Jenny did not get very far.
"Duke! G'lang, Duke!" implored Terry, desperately, cracking his whip.
"Pull, Jenny! Pull!" encouraged Harry, balancing on the drag now askew.
Up went Jenny's heels, down went Duke's head, away went Harry on the drag and Terry on the run. Shep, thinking it great sport, barked gaily.
"Whoa, Jenny! Whoa now!"
"Haw, Duke! Whoa-haw! Gee! Whoa!"
And from the cabin doorway Father Richards clapped and shouted, and Mother Richards called warnings.
Harry was speedily thrown from the bouncing drag, but he clung to the lines. Having careered, plunging and tugging and side-stepping, until she was astraddle of the outside trace, Jenny stopped. Duke, who had been bawling and galloping, half hauled, half frightened, stopped likewise, the yoke crooked on his neck; and all stood heaving.
"This'll never do," panted Harry. "Jenny's too fast for him—either her legs are too long or his are too short. We'll have to train them singly and hitch them tandem. That's it: tandem."
"You mean one in front of the other?" wheezed Terry.