Only one side of the shafts was supported by the harness, and we did not stop to fasten the hold-back straps, nor to put the lines through the terret, nor tie the hitching strap. But the instant the traces were fastened and the lines were in the buggy, we jumped in, and none too soon, either, for just as we turned our horse in the road the two men came driving around the corner. We started south, with our horse on a dead run and under the whip, followed by them with their horses under full speed, and also under the whip.
The race was indeed exciting, on a Macadamized road as smooth and hard as a floor. I drove, using the whip freely, while Frank stood up in the carriage, facing the men, swinging his hat and yelling like a wild Indian. They kept up the chase for about four miles, we making a turn at every cross-road, first west then south, and kept it up till we saw they were slacking their gait, when we also gave our horse a rest.
We then proceeded west, driving till very late that night, and arriving at the house of a farmer acquaintance of mine, five miles from Clyde, about midnight. I called him up and explained matters. He said we should put the horse in the barn, and stay with him two or three days, till we saw how things were.
We told him that his neighbors would very soon learn that he had a horse and carriage there, and would necessarily have to have an explanation as to the ownership.
We then suggested putting the whole rig, horse and all, into the cellar, which we did; and then remained there three days, eating spring chickens and new potatoes. We paid our friend's wife three dollars per day for keeping us and our horse, besides fifty cents apiece for young chickens which were about one-third grown. This was twenty-five cents more than she could have gotten for them had she kept them till they were full grown. Yet she worried a great deal about killing off her young chickens. Every time she cooked one for us she would declare that she didn't believe it paid, and she wouldn't kill any more till they grew to full size.
We undertook to argue her out of the idea, by showing how many bushels of corn each chicken would eat before fall, and the low price it would bring at that time.
She said: "It didn't make any difference. Common sense taught her that a chicken wasn't worth as much when it was one-third grown as when full grown, and she didn't care to sell us any more."
