Get out o' the way there!" he shouted again.

"I'm in a hurry." "Let 'em out! Let 'em out, Bill," they heard Cy say, and the bays sprang forward along the level road, the bells ringing like mad, the snow flying, the girls screaming at every lurch of the sleighs.

But Marc's head still shook haughtily above the end-gate; still the foam from his lips fell upon the hay in the box ahead.
"Git out o' this! Yip!" yelled Bill to his bays, but Marc merely made a lunging leap and tugged at the lines as if asking for more liberty.
Milton gave him his head and laughed to see the great limbs rise and fall like the pistons of an engine.

They swept over the weeds like a hawk skimming the stubble of a wheat field.
"Get out o' the way or I'll run right over your back," yelled Milton again.
"Try it," was the reply.
"Grab hold of me, Bettie, and lean to the right.

When we turn this corner I'm going to take the inside track and pass 'em." "You'll tip us over"---- "No, I won't! Do as I tell you." They were nearing a wide corner, where the road turned to the right and bore due south through the woods.