And this old John Bull he had lots of stuff, so at last he reckons
he's going to get a car for himself, and he promises Henery a job
to drive it. A queer cove this Henery was -- half mad, I think,
but the best hand with a car ever I see."

While he had been talking we topped a hill, and opened up a new stretch
of blue-grey granite-like road. Down at the foot of the hill
was a teamster's waggon in camp; the horses in their harness munching at
their nose-bags, while the teamster and a mate were boiling a billy
a little off to the side of the road. There was a turn in the road
just below the waggon which looked a bit sharp, so of course
Alfred bore down on it like a whirlwind. The big stupid team-horses
huddled together and pushed each other awkwardly as we passed.
A dog that had been sleeping in the shade of the waggon sprang out
right in front of the car, and was exterminated without ever knowing
what struck him.

There was just room to clear the tail of the waggon and negotiate the turn.
Alfred, with the calm decision of a Napoleon, swung round the bend
to find that the teamster's hack, fast asleep, was tied to the tail
of the waggon. Nothing but a lightning-like twist of the steering-wheel
prevented our scooping the old animal up, and taking him on board
as a passenger. As it was, we carried off most of his tail as a trophy
on the brass of the lamp. The old steed, thus rudely awakened,
lashed out good and hard, but by that time we were gone,
and he missed the car by a quarter of a mile.

During this strenuous episode Alfred never relaxed
his professional stolidity, and, when we were clear, went on with his story
in the tone of a man who found life wanting in animation.