So back we went and round by the crossroads, but by the time we got to
the bridge it was very nearly dark; we could just see that the water was
over the middle of it; but as that happened sometimes when the floods
were out, master did not stop. We were going along at a good pace, but
the moment my feet touched the first part of the bridge I felt sure
there was something wrong. I dare not go forward, and I made a dead
stop. "Go on, Beauty," said my master, and he gave me a touch with the
whip, but I dare not stir; he gave me a sharp cut; I jumped, but I dare
not go forward.

"There's something wrong, sir," said John, and he sprang out of the
dog-cart and came to my head and looked all about. He tried to lead me
forward. "Come on, Beauty, what's the matter?" Of course I could not
tell him, but I knew very well that the bridge was not safe.

Just then the man at the toll-gate on the other side ran out of the
house, tossing a torch about like one mad.

"Hoy, hoy, hoy! halloo! stop!" he cried.

"What's the matter?" shouted my master.

"The bridge is broken in the middle, and part of it is carried away; if
you come on you'll be into the river."

"Thank God!" said my master. "You Beauty!" said John, and took the
bridle and gently turned me round to the right-hand road by the river
side. The sun had set some time; the wind seemed to have lulled off
after that furious blast which tore up the tree. It grew darker and
darker, stiller and stiller. I trotted quietly along, the wheels hardly