Bert Lloyd's Boyhood Part 3

And, sure enough, the big brute was prancing about with ears bent back and teeth showing in a most threatening fashion.

"They daren't harness that horse until he is in his place beside the pole, Bert. See, now, they're going to put the harness on him."

And as he spoke another stable hand came up, deftly threw the heavy harness over the horse's back, and set to work to buckle it with a speed that showed it was a job he did not care to dally over. No sooner was it accomplished than the other horses were hastily put in their places, the black wheeler in the meantime tramping upon the barn floor in a seeming frenzy of impatience, although his head was tightly held.

"Now, then, 'all aboard' as quick as you can," shouted Jack Davis, swinging himself into his seat. Mr. Miller handed up Bert and followed himself, the inside pa.s.sengers scrambled hurriedly in, and then with a sharp whinny the black wheeler, his head being released, started off, almost pulling the whole load himself.

"Black Rory does not seem to get over his bad habits, Jack," remarked Mr. Miller.

"No," replied Jack; "quite the other way. He's getting worse, if anything; but he's too good a horse to chuck over. There's not a better wheeler on the route than Rory, once he settles down to his work."

After going a couple of miles, during which Rory behaved about as badly as a wheeler could, he did settle down quietly to his work and all went smoothly. They were among the hills now, and the steep ascents and descents, sharp turns, and many bridges over the gullies made it necessary for Davis to drive with the utmost care. At length they reached the summit of the long slope, and began the descent into the valley.

"I'd just as soon I hadn't any doubts about this brake," said Davis to Mr. Miller, as he put his foot hard down upon it.

"Oh, it'll hold all right enough, Jack," replied Mr. Miller, rea.s.suringly.

"Hope so," said Davis. "If it doesn't, we'll have to run for it to the bottom."

The road slanted steadily downward, and with brake held hard and wheelers spread out from the pole holding back with all their strength, the heavy coach lumbered cautiously down. Now it was that Black Rory proved his worth, for, thoroughly understanding what was needed of him, he threw his whole weight and strength back upon the pole, keeping his own mate no less than the leaders in check.

"We'll be at Brown's Gully in a couple of minutes," said the driver.

"Once we get past there, all right; the rest won't matter."

Brown's Gully was the ugliest bit of road on the whole route. A steep hill, along the side of which the road wound at a sharp slant, led down to a deep, dark gully crossed by a high trestle bridge. Just before the bridge there was a sudden turn which required no common skill to safely round when going at speed.

As they reached the beginning of the slant, Jack Davis' face took on an anxious look, his mouth became firm and set, his hand tightened upon the reins, and his foot upon the brake, and with constant exclamation to his horses of "Easy now!--go easy!--hold back, my beauties!" he guided the great coach in its descent.

Mr. Miller put Bert between his knees, saying:

"Stick right there, my boy; don't budge an inch."

Although the wheelers, and particularly Black Rory, were doing their best, the coach began to go faster than Davis liked, and with a shout of "Whoa there! Go easy, will you!" he had just shoved his foot still harder against the brake, when there was a sharp crack, and the huge vehicle suddenly sprang forward upon the wheelers' heels.

"G.o.d help us!" cried Jack, "the brake's gone. We've got to run for it now."

And run for it they did.

It was a time of great peril. Mr. Miller clung tightly to the seat, and Bert shrank back between his knees. Davis, with feet braced against the dashboard, and reins gathered close in his hands, put forth all his great strength to control the horses, now flying over the narrow road at a wild gallop. Brown's Gully, already sombre with the shadows of evening, showed dark and deep before them. Just around that corner was the bridge. Were they to meet another carriage there, it would mean destruction to both. Davis well knew this, and gave a gasp of relief when they swung round the corner and saw that the road was clear. If they could only hit the bridge, all right; the danger would be pa.s.sed.

"Now, Rory, _now_," shouted Davis, giving a tremendous tug at the horse's left rein, and leaning far over in that direction himself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Davis put forth all his strength to control the horses, now flying over the road at a wild gallop." _Page 36._]

Mr. Miller shut his eyes; the peril seemed too great to be gazed upon.

If they missed the bridge, they must go headlong into the gully. Another moment and it was all over.

As the coach swung round the corner into the straight road beyond, its impetus carried it almost over the edge, but not quite. With a splendid effort, the great black wheeler drew it over to the left. The front wheels kept the track, and although the hind wheels struck the side rail of the bridge with a crash and a jerk that well-nigh hurled Bert out upon the horses' backs, and the big coach leaned far over to the right, it shot back into the road again, and went thundering over the trembling bridge uninjured.

"Thank G.o.d!" exclaimed Mr. Miller, fervently, when the danger was pa.s.sed.

"Amen!" responded Jack Davis.

"I knew He would help us," added Bert.

"Knew who would, Bert?" inquired Mr. Miller, bending over him tenderly, while something very like a tear glistened in his eye.

"I knew G.o.d would take care of us," replied Bert, promptly. "The driver asked Him to; and didn't you ask Him, too?"

"I did," said Mr. Miller, adding, with a sigh, "but I'm afraid I had not much right to expect Him to hear me."

They had no further difficulties. The road ran smoothly along the rest of the way, and shortly after sundown the coach, with great noise and clatter, drove into the village of Riverton, where grandpapa was to meet Mrs. Lloyd and Bert, and take them home in his own carriage.

CHAPTER VI.

AT GRANDFATHER'S.

Easily distinguished in the crowd gathered to welcome the coach, whose arrival was always the event of the evening, was Bert's grandfather, Squire Stewart, a typical old Scotchman, from every point of view. As the pa.s.sengers got out, he stood watching them in silent dignity, until Mrs. Lloyd, catching sight of him, ran impulsively up, and taking his face between her two hands, gave him a warm kiss on each cheek, saying:

"Dear father, I'm so glad to see you looking so well."

"And I'm well pleased to see you, Kate," responded the Squire, in a tone of deep affection, adding: "And is this your boy?" as Bert, who in the meantime had been lifted down from his place, came to his mother's side.

"He's a fine big boy, and not ill-looking, either. I trust his manners have not been neglected."

"You'll have to judge of that for yourself, father," replied Mrs. Lloyd.

"He's by no means perfect, but he's pretty good, upon the whole."

"Well, daughter, I'll go and get the carriage, if you'll just wait here a moment," said Mr. Stewart, going off toward the stables.

Presently he returned, driving an elegant carriage with a fine pair of well-matched bays, which, old man though he was, he held in complete control.

"We won't mind the trunks now, Kate; I will send in for them in the morning," said he, as he helped them into their seats.

Maplebank, Squire Stewart's place, was situated about four miles from Riverton, and on the way out father and daughter had much to say to one another. As for Bert, he sat in silence on his seat. He felt very much awed by his grandfather. There was something so stern and severe about his time-worn countenance, he seemed so stiff in his bearing, and his voice had such a deep, rough tone in it, that, to tell the truth, Bert began to feel half sorry he had come. But this feeling disappeared entirely when, on arriving at Maplebank, he found himself in the arms of Aunt Sarah before he had time to jump out of the carriage, and was then pa.s.sed over to his grandmother, who nearly smothered him with kisses.

If his grandfather filled him with awe, his grandmother inspired him with love, from the very start. And no wonder, indeed, for she was the very poetry of a grandmother. A small woman, with slender frame, already stooping somewhat beneath the burden of years, her snow-white hair and spotless cap framed one of the sweetest faces that ever beamed on this earth. Bert gave her his whole heart at once, and during all the days he spent at Maplebank she was his best loved friend.

Yet he did not fail to be very fond of his two aunts, likewise. With an uncle, who remained at home, a.s.sisting his father in the management of the property, they comprised the household, and the three apparently conspired to do their best to spoil Master Bert during that summer. Bert took very kindly to the spoiling, too, and under the circ.u.mstances it was a wonder he did not return to Halifax quite demoralised, as regards domestic discipline. But of this further.

They were a merry party sitting down to tea that evening, and Bert, having appeased his hunger and found his tongue, amused them all very much by his account of what he had seen from the coach top. The narrow escape they had had at Brown's Gully was of course much discussed.

Squire Stewart had nothing but censure for the driver.

"The man had no business to go out with anything likely to break. Better for you to have waited a day than run any such risks. I shall certainly bring the matter to the attention of Mr. Lindsay," he said.