the reins. As for me, I wa'n't paying much attention to her--'twas the
Cut-Through that was disturbing MY mind.

When you drive down to Lonesome P'int you have to ford the
"Cut-Through." It's a strip of water between the bay and the ocean, and
'tain't very wide nor deep at low tide. But the tide was coming in now,
and, more'n that, the mare wa'n't headed for the ford. She was cuttin'
cross-lots on her own hook, and wouldn't answer the helm.

We struck that Cut-Through about a hundred yards east of the ford, and
in two shakes we was hub deep in salt water. 'Fore the Todds could
do anything but holler the wagon was afloat and the mare was all but
swimming. But she kept right on. Bless her, you COULDN'T stop her!

We crossed the first channel and come out on a flat where 'twasn't
more'n two foot deep then. I commenced to feel better. There was another
channel ahead of us, but I figured we'd navigate that same as we had the
first one. And then the most outrageous thing happened.

If you'll b'lieve it, that pesky mare balked and wouldn't stir another
step.

And there we was! I punched and kicked and hollered, but all that
stubborn horse would do was lay her ears back flat, and snarl up her
lip, and look round at us, much as to say: "Now, then, you land sharks,
I've got you between wind and water!" And I swan to man if it didn't
look as if she had!

"Drive on!" says Clarissa, pretty average vinegary. "Haven't you made
trouble enough for us already, you dreadful man? Drive on!"