“Oh! mon cher Monsieur Deeck! mon Dieu! que faites vous!”
“Donner und blitzen, Richart!” exclaimed the veteran German, looking over the side of the sleigh with unusual emotion, “put you will preak ter sleigh and kilt ter horses!”
“Good Mr. Jones,” said the clergyman, “be prudent, good sir—be careful.”
“Get up, obstinate devils!” cried Richard, catching a bird's-eye view of his situation, and in his eagerness to move forward kicking the stool on which he sat—“get up, I say—Cousin 'Duke, I shall have to sell the grays too; they are the worst broken horses—Mr. Le Quoi” Richard was too much agitated to regard his pronunciation, of which he was commonly a little vain: “Monsieur La Quoi, pray get off my leg; you hold my leg so tight that it's no wonder the horses back.”
“Merciful Providence!” exclaimed the Judge; “they will be all killed!” Elizabeth gave a piercing shriek, and the black of Agamemnon's face changed to a muddy white.
At this critical moment, the young hunter, who during the salutations of the parties had sat in rather sullen silence, sprang from the sleigh of Marmaduke to the heads of the refractory leaders. The horses, which were yet suffering under the injudicious and somewhat random blows of Richard, were dancing up and down with that ominous movement that threatens a sudden and uncontrollable start, still pressing backward. The youth gave the leaders a powerful jerk, and they plunged aside, and re-entered the road in the position in which they were first halted. The sleigh was whirled from its dangerous position, and upset, with the runners outward. The German and the divine were thrown, rather unceremoniously, into the highway, but without danger to their bones. Richard appeared in the air, describing the segment of a circle, of which the reins were the radii, and landed, at the distance of some fifteen feet, in that snow-bank which the horses had dreaded, right end uppermost. Here, as he instinctively grasped the reins, as drowning men seize at straws, he admirably served the purpose of an anchor. The Frenchman, who was on his legs, in the act of springing from the sleigh, took an aerial flight also, much in the attitude which boys assume when they play leap-frog, and, flying off in a tangent to the curvature of his course, came into the snow-bank head-foremost, where he remained, exhibiting two lathy legs on high, like scarecrows waving in a corn-field. Major Hartmann, whose self-possession had been admirably preserved during the whole evolution, was the first of the party that gained his feet and his voice.
“Ter deyvel, Richart!” he exclaimed in a voice half serious, half-comical, “put you unload your sleigh very hautily!”
It may be doubtful whether the attitude in which Mr. Grant continued for an instant after his overthrow was the one into which he had been thrown, or was assumed, in humbling himself before the Power that he reverenced, in thanksgiving at his escape. When he rose from his knees, he began to gaze about him, with anxious looks, after the welfare of his companions, while every joint in his body trembled with nervous agitation. There was some confusion in the faculties of Mr. Jones also: but as the mist gradually cleared from before his eyes, he saw that all was safe, and, with an air of great self-satisfaction, he cried, “Well—that was neatly saved, anyhow!—it was a lucky thought in me to hold on to the reins, or the fiery devils would have been over the mountain by this time. How well I recovered myself, 'Duke! Another moment would have been too late; but I knew just the spot where to touch the off-leader; that blow under his right flank, and the sudden jerk I gave the rein, brought them round quite in rule, I must own myself.” *
* The spectators, from immemorial usage, have a right to laugh at the
casualties of a sleigh ride; and the Judge was no sooner certain that
no one was done than he made full use of the privilege.
“Thou jerk! thou recover thyself, Dickon!” he said; “but for that brave lad yonder, thou and thy horses, or rather mine, would have been dashed to pieces—but where is Monsieur Le Quoi?”