“What makes her so devilish hard to move? She came up the lower flights very well.”
“She got scared of that drunken fool on the steps,” I heard the coarse voice of Donnery reply, and, intoxicated as I was, I breathed a solemn vow to Heaven that I would never merit that term again.
Drawing the ropes tight again, Donnery shouted to Frank:
“Twist her tail, Paning,—— her! that will move her.”
“I have,” said Frank, “and she won’t budge.”
“Let me get hold,” said a great rough fellow standing by him, and, taking the vaccine caudal in his two hands, he gave it such a wrench that, with a horrid roar, the poor creature clattered up the steps, her hoofs sounding on the wood as if the building were falling. Once on the floor, they drove her on to a lecture room, and nailing up the door, left her there. Having finished this job they dispersed, Frank calling out good night! to me as he passed. I heard some one tell him he had better see to me, and heard him reply carelessly:
“Never mind, he rooms on this floor, Cheyleigh’ll find him,” and my vow gained all the more strength from his neglect.
I had just sense enough left to try to find my room, and was trying to totter to my feet, when some one took hold of my arm and said:
“Mr. Smith, let me help you. Are you hurt much?”
It was little Peepsy, who roomed on the same floor, and whom I had laughed at so, at Frank’s supper. He kindly endeavored to assist me to walk, but I was too drunk to make any progress, even with his assistance, so I sat down on the floor while he went to call Ned. A dizzy sickness came over me, and I essayed to lean on one arm to steady myself, but my elbow doubled under me and I fell over heavily on one side, bruising my forehead against the hard plank. The only consciousness left was a sense of shame, and I murmured, “What would father and mother say if they could see me now.”