The animal leaped into the air, breaking so suddenly into a gallop that Mr. Kerchey barely escaped being thrown to the ground.
"Whoa—whoa—whoa!" he ejaculated, in an agitated voice, letting go one of the reins, in his confusion.
The horse dashed to the corner of the fence, and stopped so suddenly that Mr. Kerchey, thrown clear over the pommel of the saddle, rested on his neck. Fortunately, having come to this stand, the animal did not move until he had had time to regain his seat; for, as it was, had it not been for the proximity of the rails, on which he braced his hands, the rider must have plunged head foremost to the ground.
Sweating a cold sweat, and trembling in every limb, Mr. Kerchey seized both reins, one in each hand, resolved to hold the animal "in," at all hazards.
"Whoa—whoa—whoa!" he kept repeating, in tremulous tones, as he once more got into the road.
Sarah choked with emotion.
"Wouldn't you like a whip!" she asked, as soon as she could summon sufficient gravity to speak.
"Oh—no—thank you," gasped Mr. Kerchey.
"You'd better. You'll manage your horse much more easily with one. Will you take mine?"
Sarah rode up to him, and extended the frightful whip, at sight of which Mr. Kerchey's horse bounded to the side of the road like a frightened deer. Off flew his hat; his hands grasped saddle and mane; and he cried "Whoa—whoa!" again, with all the energy of fear.