"Hi, there! Ho! What are you lookin' for?"
"A lift out to old Carroll's," said Homer promptly, cursing Gamaliel in his heart.
"Well, I'm yer man, then," said Gamaliel. "I'm just goin' for the vet. The sorrel mare's bad—sunstroke."
"Too bad," said Homer, springing into the light wagon. "Who was driving her?"
"I was—worse luck," said Gamaliel, sulkily. "I seen her stagger, but I thought she could make it to the end of the swathe; but she dropped in her tracks, and there she's laid since, with us pouring water on her head. It don't seem to do her much good, though, and she was beginning to kick out when I hitched up and started."
"Well," said Homer, and he had a grim satisfaction in saying it, "if she was beginning to strike out, you may as well go home, for she'll die!"
"I guess she will," said Gamaliel, philosophically; "but things was gettin' pretty hot round there, and I thought it safe to make tracks. Marm's in a regular ramp over it!"
"No wonder," said Homer severely; "she's a fine mare."
The twinkling lights of Mr. Carroll's window were in view. They neared them swiftly. Gamaliel half-pulled up and Homer sprang out.
"So 'long!" said Gamaliel. "This is a matter of life and death, ye know," he added, chuckling at his own wit. He drove on quickly, speculating as to whether the mare was dead. She was.