Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER V.

  THE RIDE IN THE COACH.

  The last passenger had taken his seat, the last trunk been strapped onbehind, and the canvas covering drawn tightly over it, the mail bagssafely stowed away in the capacious boot; and then big Jack Davis,gathering the reins of his six impatient steeds skilfully into one hand,and grasping the long-lashed whip in the other, sang out to the men whostood at the leaders' heads:

  "Let them go!"

  The men dropped the bridles and sprang aside, the long lash cracked likea pistol shot, the leaders, a beautiful pair of grey ponies, perfectlymatched, reared, curvetted, pranced about, and then would have dashedoff at a wild gallop had not Jack Davis' strong hands, aided by thesteadiness of the staider wheelers, kept them in check: and soon broughtdown to a spirited canter, they led the way out of the town.

  The coach had a heavy load. It could hold twelve passengers inside, andevery seat was occupied on top. Besides Mr. Miller, who had the covetedbox seat, there were two other men perched upon the coach top, andmaking the best of their uncomfortable position; and there was an extraamount of baggage.

  "Plenty of work for my horses to-day, Mr. Miller," said Jack Davis,looking carefully over the harnessing to make sure that every strap wassecurely buckled, and every part in its right place.

  "Yes, indeed; you'll need to keep the brake on hard going down thehills," replied Mr. Miller.

  Bending over, so that those behind could not hear him, the driver said,under his breath:

  "Don't say anything; but, to tell the truth, I'm a little shaky about mybrake. It is none too strong, and I won't go out with it again untilit's fixed; but it can't be mended this side of Riverton, and I'm goingto push through as best I can."

  "Well, if anything happens, just let us know when to jump," returned Mr.Miller, with a reassuring smile, for he felt no anxiety, having perfectconfidence in Davis' ability to bring his coach safely to the journey'send.

  It was a lovely summer day, and in the early afternoon the coach bowledsmoothly along over the well-kept road, now rolling over a wooden bridgeon whose timbers the rapid tramp of the horses' feet sounded likethunder, climbing the slope on the other side, then rattling down intothe valley, and up the opposite hill, almost at full speed, and so on inrapid succession. Bert, kneeling at the window, with arms resting onthe ledge, and just able to see the three horses on his side, was soengrossed in watching them, or peering into the forest through which theroad cut its way, that he quite forgot his desire to be up on top of thecoach.

  Having gone fifteen miles at a spanking pace, the coach drove into along--covered barn for the horses to be changed, and everybody got outto stretch their legs; while this was being done, Bert's longing cameback in full force. As he stood watching the tired foam-flecked horsesbeing led away, and others, sleek, shining, and spirited put in theirplaces, who should pass by but Mr. Miller. Recognising at once hislittle acquaintance of the morning, he greeted him with a cheery:

  "Hallo! my little man, are we fellow-travellers still? And how do youlike riding in a coach?"

  "I think it's just splendid, sir," replied Bert; and then, as a brightthought flashed into his mind,--"but I do so want to be up where thedriver is."

  Mr. Miller looked down at the little face turned up to his, and notingits eager expression asked, kindly:

  "Do you think your mother would let you go up there?"

  "Oh, yes; she said I might if I would only wait a little, and it is agood deal more than a little while now."

  "Very well, Bert, you run and ask her if you may get up now, and I'lltry and manage it," said Mr. Miller.

  Bert was not long in getting his mother's sanction, and when he returnedwith beaming face, Mr. Miller taking him up to Jack Davis, said:

  "Jack, this little chap is dying to sit up with us. He wants to see howthe best driver in Acadia handles his horses, I suppose."

  There was no resisting such an appeal as this. Tickled with thecompliment, Jack said, graciously:

  "All right, Mr. Miller, you can chuck him up, so long as you'll lookafter him yourself."

  And so when the fresh horses were harnessed, and the passengers back intheir places, behold Cuthbert Lloyd, the proudest, happiest boy in allthe land, perched up between the driver and Mr. Miller, feeling himselfas much monarch of all he surveyed, as ever did Robinson Crusoe in hisisland home. It was little wonder if for the first mile or two he wastoo happy to ask any questions. It was quite enough from his lofty, butsecure position, to watch the movements of the six handsome horsesbeneath him as, tossing their heads, and making feigned nips at oneanother, they trotted along with the heavy coach as though it were amere trifle. The road ran through a very pretty district;well-cultivated farms, making frequent gaps in the forest, and many abrook and river lending variety to the scene. After Bert had grownaccustomed to the novelty of his position, his tongue began to wagagain, and his bright, innocent questions afforded Mr. Miller so muchamusement, that with Jack Davis' full approval, he was invited to remainduring the next stage also. Mrs. Lloyd would rather have had him withher inside, but he pleaded so earnestly, and Mr. Miller assuring herthat he was not the least trouble, she finally consented to his stayingup until they changed horses again.

  When they were changing horses at this post, Mr. Miller drew Bert'sattention to a powerful black horse one of the men was carefully leadingout of the stable. All the other horses came from their stalls fullyharnessed, but this one had on nothing except a bridle.

  "See how that horse carries on, Bert," said Mr. Miller.

  And, sure enough, the big brute was prancing about with ears bent backand teeth showing in a most threatening fashion.

  "They daren't harness that horse until he is in his place beside thepole, Bert. See, now, they're going to put the harness on him."

  And as he spoke another stable hand came up, deftly threw the heavyharness over the horse's back, and set to work to buckle it with a speedthat showed it was a job he did not care to dally over. No sooner was itaccomplished than the other horses were hastily put in their places, theblack wheeler in the meantime tramping upon the barn floor in a seemingfrenzy of impatience, although his head was tightly held.

  "Now, then, 'all aboard' as quick as you can," shouted Jack Davis,swinging himself into his seat. Mr. Miller handed up Bert and followedhimself, the inside passengers scrambled hurriedly in, and then with asharp whinny the black wheeler, his head being released, started off,almost pulling the whole load himself.

  "Black Rory does not seem to get over his bad habits, Jack," remarkedMr. Miller.

  "No," replied Jack; "quite the other way. He's getting worse, ifanything; but he's too good a horse to chuck over. There's not a betterwheeler on the route than Rory, once he settles down to his work."

  After going a couple of miles, during which Rory behaved about as badlyas a wheeler could, he did settle down quietly to his work and all wentsmoothly. They were among the hills now, and the steep ascents anddescents, sharp turns, and many bridges over the gullies made itnecessary for Davis to drive with the utmost care. At length theyreached the summit of the long slope, and began the descent into thevalley.

  "I'd just as soon I hadn't any doubts about this brake," said Davis toMr. Miller, as he put his foot hard down upon it.

  "Oh, it'll hold all right enough, Jack," replied Mr. Miller,reassuringly.

  "Hope so," said Davis. "If it doesn't, we'll have to run for it to thebottom."

  The road slanted steadily downward, and with brake held hard andwheelers spread out from the pole holding back with all their strength,the heavy coach lumbered cautiously down. Now it was that Black Roryproved his worth, for, thoroughly understanding what was needed of him,he threw his whole weight and strength back upon the pole, keeping hisown mate no less than the leaders in check.

  "We'll be at Brown's Gully in a couple of minutes," said the driver."Once we get past there, all right; the rest won't matter."

  Brown's Gully was the ugliest bit of road on the whol
e route. A steephill, along the side of which the road wound at a sharp slant, led downto a deep, dark gully crossed by a high trestle bridge. Just before thebridge there was a sudden turn which required no common skill to safelyround when going at speed.

  As they reached the beginning of the slant, Jack Davis' face took on ananxious look, his mouth became firm and set, his hand tightened upon thereins, and his foot upon the brake, and with constant exclamation to hishorses of "Easy now!--go easy!--hold back, my beauties!" he guided thegreat coach in its descent.

  Mr. Miller put Bert between his knees, saying:

  "Stick right there, my boy; don't budge an inch."

  Although the wheelers, and particularly Black Rory, were doing theirbest, the coach began to go faster than Davis liked, and with a shout of"Whoa there! Go easy, will you!" he had just shoved his foot stillharder against the brake, when there was a sharp crack, and the hugevehicle suddenly sprang forward upon the wheelers' heels.

  "God help us!" cried Jack, "the brake's gone. We've got to run for itnow."

  And run for it they did.

  It was a time of great peril. Mr. Miller clung tightly to the seat, andBert shrank back between his knees. Davis, with feet braced against thedashboard, and reins gathered close in his hands, put forth all hisgreat strength to control the horses, now flying over the narrow road ata wild gallop. Brown's Gully, already sombre with the shadows ofevening, showed dark and deep before them. Just around that corner wasthe bridge. Were they to meet another carriage there, it would meandestruction to both. Davis well knew this, and gave a gasp of reliefwhen they swung round the corner and saw that the road was clear. Ifthey could only hit the bridge, all right; the danger would be passed.

  "Now, Rory, _now_," shouted Davis, giving a tremendous tug at thehorse's left rein, and leaning far over in that direction himself.

  "Davis put forth all his strength to control the horses,now flying over the road at a wild gallop." _Page 36._]

  Mr. Miller shut his eyes; the peril seemed too great to be gazed upon.If they missed the bridge, they must go headlong into the gully. Anothermoment and it was all over.

  As the coach swung round the corner into the straight road beyond, itsimpetus carried it almost over the edge, but not quite. With a splendideffort, the great black wheeler drew it over to the left. The frontwheels kept the track, and although the hind wheels struck the side railof the bridge with a crash and a jerk that well-nigh hurled Bert outupon the horses' backs, and the big coach leaned far over to the right,it shot back into the road again, and went thundering over the tremblingbridge uninjured.

  "Thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Miller, fervently, when the danger waspassed.

  "Amen!" responded Jack Davis.

  "I knew He would help us," added Bert.

  "Knew who would, Bert?" inquired Mr. Miller, bending over him tenderly,while something very like a tear glistened in his eye.

  "I knew God would take care of us," replied Bert, promptly. "The driverasked Him to; and didn't you ask Him, too?"

  "I did," said Mr. Miller, adding, with a sigh, "but I'm afraid I had notmuch right to expect Him to hear me."

  They had no further difficulties. The road ran smoothly along the restof the way, and shortly after sundown the coach, with great noise andclatter, drove into the village of Riverton, where grandpapa was to meetMrs. Lloyd and Bert, and take them home in his own carriage.