Jehu did not reply. He held steadily to the reins, and the carriage fairly flew through the misty haze. Willie wanted to ask for the reins himself. He felt he could drive much more to his own satisfaction but, withal, he admitted, Jehu was doing very well. A minute later, however, when the lead horse bolted just as they approached a long bridge, and Jehu prevented a crash by expert manœuvring of the reins, Willie was glad he was not driving. “Does dat ev’y time at the bridge,” Jehu volunteered as the team settled down to a long gallop across the structure. “Lots er times us misses an’ de folks in de chariot gits drownded tryin’ to cross Jurdan.” “Dat de Jurdan, huh?” asked Willie. “I be dog,” and he gripped tightly to the seat. The chariot rolled off the bridge and up to the front of a white pearly gate where it stopped. Willie dropped confidently to the ground, opened the chariot door, and assisted the distinguished old passenger to alight. St. Peter swung the big gate open. “Welcome, Colonel,” he said. “It gives me great pleasure to greet you personally after having known you indirectly for these many years. She’s waiting for you under the crêpe myrtles. Cherub, escort the Colonel to Miss Julia.” Willie thought that was great, and he was thrilled almost to ecstasy when the old gentleman gave him a curt nod in recognition of his service. As soon as the old man had disappeared behind the cherub, St. Peter dropped his air of formality. “Well, well,” he said, “if it ain’t that worthless Willie Malone. Willie, how’d you git here, son?” That was language Willie could understand and appreciate. “St. Peter,” he replied, “I jes’ got on de chariot an’ rid up hyar.” “Well,” said St. Peter, “I guess you better try on a pair of wings, then. Here, Cherub. Bring out a pair of wings for old Willie Malone.” St. Peter helped the cherub adjust the wings. “Now you’re fixed, son,” he announced. “Fly away!” And Willie flew. He flew among the golden clouds and down long narrow golden streets. He flew over mansions of gold and sparkling rivers. High into the air and close to the ground he flew. He tried a few fancy turns, such as he had seen birds perform among the chinaberry trees. He dived at the surface of the water and grabbed at the golden fish and then climbed again by lusty flaps of his wings, as pelicans do. And he did it perfectly. “Doggone my hide,” he exclaimed, “dis is somethin’ like!” After a few hours the novelty began to wear off. He was high in the air, maybe a mile high, he estimated. So he pointed one wing at an angle and began gliding down, making a huge spiral as he descended. Halfway down, he reversed the cant of his wings and came down the rest of the way, flying backwards.