He turned his head to look back, but just at this moment Jouncer went round a corner, and, rushing along a side street, was soon out in the open country.
When he found himself on an uneven and dusty road, the horse seemed to lose his taste for galloping, and very soon slackened his pace. He then moderated the boiling of his Arabian blood to such a degree that his rider was enabled to pull him in, and finally to stop him.
Philip dismounted, and as he stood by the roadside, with the bridle in his hand, he could not help feeling glad that neither his uncle nor Joel were there at that moment to see Jouncer.
It was a very hot day, and the noble animal looked as if he had taken a Russian steam-bath, and had had a little too much of it. His sides were heaving, he was puffing hard, and every hair was dripping, but the queerest thing about him was a black straw hat, through the crown of which he had thrust one of his hind feet, and which was now stuck fast above his fetlock.
Philip could not tell whether the horse’s hoofs struck the man or not
Philip made the horse lift his foot, and he pulled off the hat. Then he exclaimed,—
“I’ve seen this hat before, and I am sure I never saw but one of the kind. I remember now. It belonged to the man who came to see uncle last night. I hope I haven’t hurt him, whoever he is.”
Much troubled in his mind, Philip took the hat in one hand and Jouncer’s bridle in the other, and led the horse slowly back to town. He would have first rubbed him down, but he had nothing to do it with.
Not caring, after his John Gilpin ride, to re-enter the main thoroughfare of the town, he went along a side street until he reached a shady spot, not very far from Mr. Welford’s office.