Page:In bad company and other stories.djvu/258

 day; to have everything packed—passengers and all—in the buggy—coach fashion—before any hint of putting to. Both horses to be fed and watered at least an hour before. Then at the last moment to bring them out of the stable, needfully and respectfully, avoiding 'rude speech or jesting rough.' Railway especially resented being 'lugged' awkwardly by the rein. If all things were done decently and in order, this would be the usual programme.

Steamer, more excitable but more amiable, would be entrusted to a groom. Silently and quickly they would be poled up, the reins buckled, and Railway's traces attached. All concerned had been drilled, down to the youngest child, to be discreetly silent. It was forbidden, on pain of death, to offer suggestion, much less to 't-c-h-i-c-k.' The reins were taken in one hand by paterfamilias, who with the other drew back Steamer's traces, oppressed with an awful sense of responsibility, as of one igniting a fuse or connecting a torpedo wire, and as the outer trace was attached, stepped lightly on to the front seat. The groom and helper stole backward like shadows. Steamer made a plunging snatch at his collar; Railway followed up with a steady rush; and we were off—off for good and all—for one hundred, two hundred, five hundred miles. Distance made no difference to them. The last stage was even as the first. They only wanted holding. Not that they pulled disagreeably, or unreasonably either. I lost my whip once, and drove without one for six months. It was only on the first day of a journey that the theatrical performance was produced.

But this chronicle would be incomplete without reference to the sad alternative when the start did not come off at first intention. On these inauspicious occasions, possibly from an east wind or oats below sample, everything went wrong. Steamer sidled and pulled prematurely before the traces were 'hitched,' while Railway's reserved expression deepened—a sure sign that he wasn't going to pull at all. The other varied his vexatious plungings by backing on to the whipple-tree, or bending outwards, by way of testing the elasticity of the pole.

Nothing could now be done. Persuasion, intimidation, deception, had all been tried previously in vain. The recipe of paterfamilias, as to horse management, was to sit