After a little he succeeded in stopping them, and for the next ten or fifteen minutes they proceeded on rather leisurely, and Bill was beginning to think his master had come to his senses, when he was startled with the stern command, “Let them run now as fast as they will. Don’t check them at all until we reach the dépôt.” Accordingly, for a mile or so the horses rushed on at headlong speed, Bill sympathizing with them deeply and mentally promising himself “to tend ’em mighty keerful to pay for this.” At last, when he thought it safe to do so, he held them in, taking the precaution, however to say aloud, “Get along dar, Ferd—none your lazy tricks here when mars’r’s in sich a hurry. Can’t you get along dar, I say. An’ you Fred, wake up yer bones to de merits of de case.” But if in this way he thought to deceive the resolute man inside he was mistaken. Perceiving that their speed was considerably slackened, and hearing Bill loudly reproach the horses for their laziness, Mr. Delafield softly opened the carriage door, and leaning out, learned the cause of the delay. Bolt upright upon the box, with his brawny feet firmly braced against the dash-board so as to give him more power, sat Bill, clutching the reins with might and main, for the horses’ mettle was up and it required his entire strength to keep them from running furiously! All this time, too, the cunning negro kept chiding them for their indolence in moving so slowly! “Bill,” said Mr. Delafield, sternly, “stop the carriage instantly.” “Lord a massy, mars’r,” exclaimed the frightened Bill. “You almost skeered me off de box. Ferd won’t get along no how. I tells him and I tells him how you’r in de hurry—don’t you mind how I keeps telling him to get along, I reckons he wants dat t’other half bucket of water.” “I understand you perfectly,” said Mr. Delafield, alighting from the carriage, and to the utter astonishment of Bill, mounting the box and taking the reins in his own hands. “I understand your tricks, and for the rest of the way I shall drive myself!” Rolling his eyes wildly in their sockets, the crest fallen Bill folded his arms and resigned the horses to their fate, saying mentally, “I shall war mournin’ for ’em, I shall, and he may help hisself.” Over rough and stony places—over smooth and sandy roads—over hills, over plains—through the woods, through the swamps, and through the winding valleys, on they sped like lightning, the excited horses covered with foam, their driver stern, silent and determined, while poor Bill, with the perspiration streaming down his shining face, kept up a continued expostulation, “Now, mars’r, for de dear Lord’s sake, stop ’em ‘fore dey draps down dead. Look at de white specks all over Ferd’s back—he’ll never stan’ it without dat t’other half bucket. You kills ’em sartin, and dar goes a thousand dollars, smack and clean.”