In a few seconds the lane became full of horses; for it is wonderful how courageous men are in spinning along the roads. Some came screaming up and cracking their whips, and instead of sticking to our work we began flying about in every direction.
The Squire scolded, Will roared, Tom lost his patience, and Ned Adams thundered out “Hold har-r-r-d!” until black in the face.
“HOLD HAR-R-R-D!”
At this juncture, a fellow with his hat hanging by the string, his long lank hair streaming in the wind, coat tails sticking well out, and his horse’s head close to his chest, came tearing up the lane. Bang he went against me, rolling me over and over like a football. I thought my back was broken, and sung out with pain and fright most lustily.
“William,” said the Squire, sternly. “Take the hounds home.”
Will touched his cap, and the order was obeyed.