Ike jumped down on one side and I jumped down on the other. I was not
afraid, but the big fellow's uneasiness had its effect upon me, and I
certainly felt uncomfortable. There was something strange about riding
along that dark road in the middle of the night, and this being my first
experience of sitting up till morning the slightest thing was enough to
put me off my balance.

The horse went on, and Ike and I met at the back, looked about us, and
then silently returned to our seats, climbing up without stopping the
horse; but we had not been there a minute before Ike bounded off again,
for there once more, buzzing curiously in the air, came that curious
howling song:

"I've been to Paris and I've been to Dover."

I slipped off too, and Ike ran round, whip in hand, and gripped my arm.

"It was your larks," he growled savagely, as I burst into a fit of
laughing.

"It wasn't," I cried, as soon as I could speak. "Give me the whip," I
whispered.

"What for?" he growled.

"You give me the whip," I whispered; and I took it from his hand,
trotted on to the side of the cart, and then reaching up, gave a cut
over the top of the load.

"Stash that!" shouted a voice; and then, as I lashed again, "You leave
off, will yer? You'll get something you don't like."

"Woa, Bony!" roared Ike with such vehemence that the horse stopped
short, and there, kneeling on the top of the high load of baskets, we
could dimly see a well-known figure, straw-hat and all.

"You want me to come down, an' 'it you?" he cried, writhing.

"Here, give me that whip," cried Ike fiercely. "How did you come
there?"

"Got up," said Shock sulkily.

"Who told you to come?"

"No one. He's come, ain't he?"

"That's no reason why you should come. Get down, you young dog!"

"Sha'n't!"

"You give's holt o' that whip, and I'll flick him down like I would a
fly."

"No, no; don't hurt him, Ike," I said, laughing. "What were you making
that noise for, Shock?"

"He calls that singing," cried Ike, spitting on the ground in his
disgust. "He calls that singing. He's been lying on his back, howling
up at the sky like a sick dog, and he calls that singing. Here, give us
that whip."

"No, no, Ike; let him be."

"Yes; he'd better," cried Shock defiantly.

"Yes; I had better," cried Ike, snatching the whip from me, and giving
it a crack like the report of a gun, with the result that Basket started
off, and would not stop any more.

"Come do