flat tract; little of the land was cleared; the road was straight. It is
hard to explain the mental weariness produced by a straight level road.
The hope and interest inspired by undulations or curves are lost. The
distance ever gives a farther reach of the weary way to the view, as if
by a parable it would impress on the traveller the knowledge that the
future was to be barren of delight.

About two miles from Geneva, before the daylight was quite gone, they
were both startled by hearing a rushing, crashing sound coming toward
them in the woods. Were their pursuers upon them after all? Had they
chosen this, the most lonely part of their road, to fall upon them?

They did not speak their thoughts to one another. Angel struck the
horse, and it galloped forward perhaps about a hundred yards, and then,
of its own accord, stopped suddenly.

Upon the side of the road, pushing itself backward among the bushes, the
better to gain space for its run, was a bull. Its eyes were bloodshot,
its head lowered for a long moment to measure its distance ere it made
the attack. The horse seemed palsied with terror. It moved backward with
tottering steps, trembling all over, heedless of whip or rein.

The backward movement prolonged the hesitation of the bull, which turned
itself to take another aim. The horse uttered an almost human cry. In
the moment of hearing that cry Susannah felt that she had already gone
through some shocking form of death. Halsey brought down his whip,
striking the horse with all his might; it leaped forward, lifting the
chaise almost into the air; then it was rushing madly on, dragging the
wheels behind it with terrible velocity.