down in the dust, doggedly clinging to his gun. He struck the ground
with it still between his knees. The impact of the butt discharged
both barrels straight into the air.

Flanked by a roaring fire and howling crowd, and bombarded in the
rear, even a horse with a bone spavin and the heaves will exhibit
the spirit of Bucephalus. One of the rotten reins broke at Marengo's
first terrified tug. In less time than it takes to tell, Cap'n Aaron
Sproul, desperate and beholding only one resource--the tail
flaunting over the dasher--seized it and gave a seaman's sturdy pull.
The tail came away in his hands and left only a wildly brandishing
stump. Even in that moment of horror, the Cap'n had eyes to see and
wit to understand that this false tail was more of Marengo Todd's
horse-jockey guile. The look that he turned on the enterprising
doctor of caudal baldness was so perfectly diabolical that Marengo
chose what seemed the lesser of two evils. He precipitated himself
over the back of the seat, dropped to the ground as lightly as a cat,
ran wildly until he lost his footing, and dove into some wayside
alders. Cap'n Aaron Sproul was left alone with his newly acquired
property!

When he hove in sight of his own house he saw Louada Murilla on the
porch, gazing off at the smoke of the fire and evidently luxuriating
in the consciousness that it was her husband who was that day leading
the gallant forces of the Ancients.

As he stared wildly, home seemed his haven and the old house his rock
of safety. He did not understand enough about the vagaries of horses
and wagons to appreciate the risk. One rein still hung over the
dasher.