Bob Hunt in Canada

by George W. Orton

"You'll do some walking," said Mr. Waterman. "We have only one pair of horses and a wagon. We'll all walk on the hills."

Soon they were off, Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson on the front seat with the driver, and the boys seated on the bags that were stowed behind. The little Canadian horses set off at a sharp trot. The boys nodded at every one they met as they went through the village, not forgetting even the vivacious, petite, dark-haired and dark-eyed French Canadian misses that did not fail to come to many of the windows or doors as the wagon rattled by. It was a fine day and they were happy as the gods. They laughed and talked and sang and asked innumerable questions. Their two leaders were also full of good spirits and gave them all the information they had. For the first five miles the horses went along famously. Then the roads got poorer and the pace slackened. They soon struck a steep hill and they all got out except the driver. At the top of the hill, the wagon stopped and all got on but Pud. He was slow as usual so the driver made believe that his horses had run away and Pud ran along after them for nearly a mile. Finally the horses were stopped and Pud at last came up puffing, blowing and sweating. Mr. Waterman had cautioned every one to be quite serious and not give the joke away.

"Sacre," said the driver. "Dese horse, he not get drive enough. He run away."

"How's the running, Pud?" asked Bill.

"Never you mind. Just let me in. I'm done out. I'm no runner like Bob there," replied Pud.

"Possibly your life was saved for when these horses ran away, we could hardly keep on this load," said Bob, as he winked at Mr. Anderson.

"Yes, if you're born to be hanged you'll never get killed in a runaway, Pud," said Bill solemnly.

"What's that?" said Pud, who was having too much cleverness thrust at him to take it all in.

Away they went, and as the way was down hill, the driver once more gave the reins to his little horses and they started so fast that Pud nearly went out over the back of the wagon. Bill caught him and Pud held on like grim death as the wagon bumped and rattled along the rough road. Bill and Bob laughed until they could hardly hold on themselves, for Pud's face was a study. He knew that they had put something over on him but he could not exactly figure it out.

In spite of the speed shown by the horses in the runaway, it was already four o'clock when they reached the ford. The driver drove right in and when he got to the other side he drove up such a steep part of the bank with such a rush that he spilled out not only the three boys but also about half his load. No one was hurt and the grub was soon on the wagon again. He drove for at least half a mile until the road could be followed no longer. The food was then dumped out on the ground, and with cheery good-by the driver was soon out of sight on the back trail.