Then the doctor came hurrying down the lane, and left his horse standing in front of the house. Spry was the name of the animal, in whom the doctor had full confidence. Now Spry had, when the May clover was at its sweetest, carried the doctor along the shore and out across the bar to the little island, where the clover is sweeter than any that grows on the old main land. Spry fully appreciated the clover at the time, and remembering it still, off he started for the island.
The tide was rising fast. The bar was almost covered, but Spry got upon it safely and trotted along the stony way, not minding in the least the spray that met about his feet. He gained Cloverland Paradise at last, and when his master, having dressed Harry’s wounds and properly disposed of his broken arm, went out to find him, Spry was wandering in fields of sweetness, and the poor puzzled doctor walked home.
Great was the consternation on the island to find the doctor’s horse feeding there and without his master, and great was the fear lest the doctor had been drowned. Spry had to pay for his clover by crossing the bar at the first moment the tide permitted. The water poured into the doctor’s carriage, and the man who drove kept his eyes roving about on every side, to find some trace of the missing man. It was nearly dark when he, urging Spry on to his highest speed, went rushing villageward. As he came to the principal street, the overhanging elms, whose branches met, made it seem quite dark.
At first the man thought he would stop and inquire if the doctor had reached home, but finally deciding to go at once to the doctor’s house, he gave Spry a touch with the whip, which sent the beast on faster than ever.
Just as he gave the stroke he was passing a cornerstore, before which a group of loungers was standing.
In the darkness every one of them recognized the doctor’s horse, although not one of them recognized the man who drove.
“There goes the doctor’s horse, this minute,” cried one.
“The rascal thinks he’ll get off safe,” cried another, while all together they set up such a shout and cry, that instantly the street seemed to resound with cries of “Stop him! Stop him! He’s running off with the doctor’s horse. Stop, thief!”
While the crowd ran on, pursuing as fast as it could, two men jumped into a wagon and started on another road. They intended to head the escaping thief and turn him back, to effect which, they spared not the horse they drove, but at the end of a mile and a half, turned triumphantly into the New Haven turnpike, saying “Now we have him! Spry hasn’t speed enough to have passed this point. We’ll meet him presently. He’s one of them good-for-nothing circus fellows, without any doubt.”
To their intense disgust and astonishment Spry’s white face did not appear on the road, nor did they see it until they reached the doctor’s house, whither they went to inform him that the horse-thief had escaped. They were met as they drove up with shouts of laughter from the group assembled in the doctor’s yard. Looking about in the darkness for the cause, Spry was discerned quietly standing at his accustomed post, while his master, who had had an unusual amount of walking to do that afternoon, was waiting to get his tea, and for the moon to rise before taking the man back to the island.