ns, but don't drop 'em."

"Don't you worry about me; I grew up with horses," said the
over-confident youth, leaping into the sleigh and gathering up the
lines. "Stand aside, my lord, and let the cortege pass. Hoop-la!"

The brute gave a tearing lunge, and was out of the doorway like a shot
before the old man could utter a word. Albert thrilled with pleasure as
he felt the reins stiffen in his hands, while the traces swung slack
beside the thills.

"If he keeps this up he'll do," he thought.

As he turned up at the gate Maud came gayly down the path, muffled to
the eyes.

"Oh, what a nice cutter! But the horse--is he gentle?" she asked, as she
climbed in.

"As a cow," Albert replied.--"Git out o' this, Bones!"

The main street was already full of teams, wood sleighs, bob-sleighs
filled with children, and here and there a man in a light cutter alone,
out for a race. Laughter was on the air, and the jingle-jangle of bells.
The sun was dazzling in its brightness, and the gay wraps and scarfs
lighted up the street with flecks of color. Loafers on the sidewalks
fired a fusillade of words at the teams as they passed:

"Go it, Bones!"

"'Let 'er _go_, Gallagher!'"

"Ain't she a daisy!"

But what cared the drivers? If the shouts were insolent they laid them
to envy, and if they were pleasant they smiled in reply.

Albert and Maud had made two easy turns up and down the street, when a
man driving a span of large black-hawk horses dashed up a side street
and whirled in just before them. The man was a superb driver, and sat
with the reins held carelessly but securely in his left hand, guiding
the team more by his voice than by the bit. He sat leaning forward with
his head held down in a peculiar and sinister fashion.

"_Hel_-lo!" cried Bert; "that looks like Brann."

"It is," said Maud.

"Cracky! that's a fine team--Black Hawks, both of them. I wonder if ol'
sorrel can pass 'em?"

"Oh, please don't try," pleaded the girl.

"Why not?"

"Because--because I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid something'll happen."

"Something _is_ goin' t' happen; I'm goin' t' pass him if old Bones has
got any _git_ to him."

"It'll make him mad."

"Who mad? Brann?"

"Yes."

"Well, s'pose it does, who cares?"

The teams moved along at an easy pace. Some one called to Brann:

"They're on y'r trail, Ed."

There was something peculiar in the tone, and Brann looked behind for
the first time, and saw them. He swor