It was not until some time after Black Bill had spoken
that the white -- or, rather, the brown -- portion of the party
could see or even hear the approaching vehicle. At last,
far out through the trunks of the native apple-trees,
the cart was seen approaching; and as it came nearer it was evident that
it was being driven at a break-neck pace, the horses cantering all the way,
while the motion of the cart, as first one wheel and then the other
sprang from a root or a rut, bore a striking resemblance
to the Highland Fling. There were two persons in the cart.
One was Mother Palmer, a stout, middle-aged party (who sometimes did
the duties of a midwife), and the other was Dave Middleton, Joe's brother.

The cart was driven right up to the door with scarcely any abatement of speed,
and was stopped so suddenly that Mrs. Palmer was sent sprawling
on to the horse's rump. She was quickly helped down,
and, as soon as she had recovered sufficient breath, she followed Black Mary
into the bedroom where young Mrs. Middleton was lying,
looking very pale and frightened. The horse which had been driven so cruelly
had not done blowing before another cart appeared, also driven very fast.
It contained old Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, who lived comfortably on a small farm
not far from Palmer's place.

As soon as he had dumped Mrs. Palmer, Dave Middleton left the cart and,
mounting a fresh horse which stood ready saddled in the yard,
galloped off through the scrub in a different direction.

Half an hour afterwards Joe Middleton came home on a horse
that had been almost ridden to death. His mother came out
at the sound of his arrival, and he anxiously asked her: