tell you one thing, doctor, he's improvin'. He is goin' better
than he did. That's the way with this kind. It takes them a
good while to get warmed up, but they keep on gettin' fresher
instead of tireder."

The big roan was going better, but still we did not reach
Crocker's, which disappointed Uncle Beamish, who wanted to be
assured that the greater part of his journey was over.

"We must have passed it," he said, "when the snow was so
blindin'."

I did not wish to discourage him by saying that I did not
think we had yet reached Crocker's, but I believed I had a much
better appreciation of our horse's slowness than he had.

Again the wind began to blow in our faces, and the snow fell
faster, but the violence of the storm seemed to encourage our
horse, for his pace was now greatly increased.

"That's the sort of beast to have," exclaimed Uncle Beamish,
spluttering as the snow blew in his mouth. "He is gettin' his
spirits up just when they are most wanted. We must have passed
Crocker's a good while ago, and it can't be long before we get to
the pike. And it's time we was there, for it's darkenin'."

On and on we went, but still we did not reach the pike.
We had lost a great deal of time during the first part of the
journey, and although the horse was travelling so much better
now, his pace was below the average of good roadsters.