Another half hour passed, and still with no result.

It was imperative that his goods should be brought under cover before the storm should break.

Again the good Bishop urged Macmillan to more strenuous effort.
"We can't stay here all night, sir," he said.

"Surely something can be done." "Well, I'll tell Your Lordship, it's one of two things, stick or swear, and there's nothing else for it." "Well, well, Mr.Macmillan," said the Bishop resignedly, "we must get on.

Do as you think best, but I take no responsibility in the matter." At which Pilate's counsel he retired from the scene, leaving Macmillan an untrammelled course.
Macmillan seized the reins from the ground, and walking up and down the length of his six-horse team, began to address them singly and in the mass in terms so sulphurously descriptive of their ancestry, their habits, and their physical and psychological characteristics, that when he gave the word in a mighty culminating roar of blasphemous excitation, each of the bemired beasts seemed to be inspired with a special demon, and so exerted itself to the utmost limit of its powers that in a single minute the load stood high and dry on solid ground.
One other characteristic made Macmillan one of the most trusted of the freighters upon the trail.