There I held them, though they still plunged and snorted in their terror.
Willis's team was running away along the lumber trail, but before it had gone fifty yards we heard a crash, and then a horrible squealing.

The wagon had gone over a log or a stump and, upsetting, had spilled all ten hogs into the brushwood.
Willis now jumped to his feet and ran to help me master my team, which was still plunging violently, and I kept it headed to the tree while he got the halters and tied the horses.

Just then we heard that terrible _Hough--hough!_ again, nearer now.

Looking out toward the road, we saw four teams dragging large, gaudily painted cages that contained animals.
The drivers, who wore a kind of red uniform, pulled up and sat looking in our direction, laughing and shouting derisively.

That exasperated us so greatly that, checking our first impulse to run in pursuit of the horses and hogs, we rushed to the road to remonstrate.
It was not a full-fledged circus and menagerie, but merely a show on its way from one county fair to another.