It was fortunate for the deacon and the parson that the noise and
cheering of the crowd drew the attention of the drivers ahead, or there
would surely have been more than one collision, for the old sleigh was
of such size and strength, the good deacon so unskilled at the reins,
and Jack, who was adding to his momentum with every stride, going at so
determined a pace, that had he struck the rear line with no gap for him
to go through, something serious would surely have happened. But as it
was, the drivers saw the huge horse, with the cumbrous old sleigh behind
him, bearing down on them at such a gait as made their own speed, sharp
as it was, seem slow, and "pulled out" in time to save themselves; and
so, without any mishap, the big horse and heavy sleigh swept through the
rear row of racers like an autumn gust through a cluster of leaves.

[Illustration: "_Jack was going nigh to a thirty clip!_"]

But by this time the deacon had become somewhat alarmed, for Old Jack
was going nigh to a thirty clip--a frightful pace for an inexperienced
driver to ride--and began to put a good strong pressure upon the bit,
not doubting that Old Jack, ordinarily the easiest horse in the world to
manage, would take the hint and immediately slow up. But though the huge
horse took the hint, it was in exactly the opposite manner that the
deacon intended he should, for he interpreted the little man's steady
pull as an intimation that his driver was getting over his flurry and
beginning to treat him as a horse ought to be treated in a race, and
that he could now, having got settled to his work, go ahead. And go
ahead he did. The more the deacon pulled the more the great animal felt
himself steadied and assisted. And so, the harder the good man tugged at
the reins, the more powerfully the machinery of the big animal ahead of
him worked, until the deacon got alarmed and began to call upon the
horse to stop, crying, "Whoa, Jack, whoa, old boy, I say! whoa, will