Would there? I glanced backward and gasped. Others had joined the pursuit, and I was merely the vanguard of a procession. Twenty feet to the rear loomed the black muzzle of Enos Jackson's trotter, with Jackson in his little road-cart. Behind him, three bicyclists filled up the gap between the road-cart and Dr. Brotherton's buggy. I felt a little better at seeing Brotherton there. He set my hired man's leg two years ago, and made a splendid job. There was more of the cavalcade behind Brotherton, although the dust revealed only glimpses of it; but I had seen enough to realize that if Hawkins' brake did work, and Hawkins' mare stopped suddenly, there was going to be a piled-up mass of men and things in the road that for sheer mixed-up-edness would pale the average freight wreck. Maud maintained her pace, and I did my best to keep up. By this time I could see the reason for her mad flight. When the explosion, or whatever it was, took place in the brake machinery, a jagged piece of brass had been forced into her side, and there it remained, stabbing the poor old beast with conscientious regularity at every leap. I was still trying to devise some way of pulling loose the goad and persuading Maud to slow down when we entered town. At first the houses whizzed past at intervals of two or three seconds; but it seemed hardly half a minute before we came in sight of the square and the court house. We were creating quite an excitement, too. People screamed frantically at us from porches and windows and the sidewalk. Occasionally a man would spring into the road to stop Maud, think better of it, and spring out again. One misguided individual hurled a fence-rail across the path. It didn't worry Maud in the slightest, for she happened to be all in the air while passing over that particular point, but when the auto went over the rail it nearly jarred out my teeth. Another fellow pranced up, waving a many-looped rope over his head. I think Maud must have transfixed him with her fiery eye, for before he could throw it his nerve failed and he scuttled back to safety. Those who had teams hitched in the square were hurrying them out of danger, and when we whirled by the court-house only one buggy remained in the road. That buggy belonged to Burkett, the constable. The town pays Burkett a percentage on the amount of work he does, and Burkett is keen on looking up new business. “Stop, there!” he shouted, as we came up. “Stop!” Nobody stopped. “Stop, or I'll arrest the whole danged lot of ye fer fast drivin'!” roared Burkett, gathering up reins and whip. And with that he dashed into the place behind Enos Jackson and crowded the bicyclists to the side of the road. Our county town is a small one, and at the pace set by Maud it didn't take us long to reach the far side and sweep out on the highway which leads, eventually, to Boston.