Milton caught sight of the turn, gave a quick twist of the lines around his hands, leaned over the dasher and spoke shrilly: "Git out o' this, Marc!" The splendid brute swerved to the right and made a leap that seemed to lift the sleigh and all into the air.

The snow flew in such stinging showers Milton could see nothing.

The sleigh was on one runner, heeling like a yacht in a gale; the girl was clinging to his neck; he could hear the bells of the other sleigh to his left; Marc was passing them; he heard shouts and the swish of a whip.

Another convulsive effort of the gray, and then Milton found himself in the road again, in the moonlight, where the apparently unwearied horse, with head out-thrust, nostril wide-blown and body squared, was trotting like a veteran on the track.
The team was behind.
"Stiddy, boy!" Milton soothed Marc down to a long, easy pace; then turned to Bettie, who had uncovered her face again.
"How d' y' like it ?" "My sakes! I don't want any more of that.

If I'd 'a' known you was goin' t' drive like that I wouldn't 'a' come.