"Get a tight hold, and pray God it is good word we carry." "But I prayed the one big prayer to get this," I said.

"It wouldn't be sent if it wasn't good.

The thing to do now is to thank the Lord for 'all his loving kindnesses,' like mother said." "Drive father! Make them go!" At first he only touched them up; I couldn't see that we were getting home so fast; but in a minute a cornfield passed like a streak, a piece of woods flew by a dark blur, a bridge never had time to rattle, and we began to rock from side to side a little.

Then I gripped the top supports with one hand, the mail with the other, and hung on for dear life.

I took one good look at father.
His feet were on the brace, his face was clear, even white, his eyes steely, and he never moved a muscle.