Really she was doing well to-night. As
they topped the brow of the slope, the professor tightened the reins a
little. It wouldn't do to let the old mare overwork herself. But,
instead of slackening her pace, she sprang forward more swiftly than
ever.
"That's odd!" murmured the old gentleman. "Can any thing be the matter,
I wonder?" and he gave another steady pull on the reins. The wagon was
jerked forward with such a wrench as almost to throw him backward. There
was no doubt that something was the matter, now.
By this time they were within a quarter of a mile of the Parsonage, and
rapidly approaching the sharp bend around the rocky spur of the hill.
Dolly's skimming hind-legs spurned the road faster and faster, and the
fences flickered by in a terrible hurry. They whisked around the curve
with a sharp, grating sound of the wheels on the rock, and the Parsonage
lay but a short distance ahead. Suddenly a white object seemed to rise
out of the road not more than a hundred yards in advance. Dolly, with
the bit caught vigorously between her teeth, stretched her neck and head
out and ran. Professor Valeyon, bracing himself with his feet against
the dash-board, leaned back with his whole weight and sawed the reins
right and left.
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