“Look at that boy!”
He pointed toward Teddy on the hay-rake, and one of the farm hands exclaimed:
“He’ll be hurt, sure! Does he know how to drive a horse?”
“He can drive a goat a little,” said Jan. “Oh, get him, Grandpa, ’fore he’s hurt!” she cried.
“He oughtn’t to have got up there!” said Grandpa Martin as he dropped his pitchfork and ran after the hay-rake. One of the hired men ran with him.
“Ted! Teddy! Stop the horse!” cried grandpa, running faster.
“I’m trying to,” answered Ted, but his voice sounded faint and far off. “Whoa!” he called, but instead of pulling back on the reins as he ought to have done, he flapped them up and down on the back of the horse. And, as this was what other drivers did when they wanted him to go faster, the horse did not know what to do.
With his voice Teddy was telling the horse to stop, but with the reins he was urging him on. So the horse kept going.
“I’ve got to stop! I’ve got to stop!” said the frightened boy to himself. “Maybe if I pull on the handle, like the man did, and raise up the rake, the horse will stop long enough for me to jump down. I’ll try it.”
Then, before Grandpa Martin or the hired man could reach Ted, he leaned forward. But he did not pull the handle. His hand just missed it and the next moment the little boy fell from the high iron seat, right behind the horse’s legs.