a most excited fashion.

"Loose de rein!" cried John Indian.

The minister did so. But the animal now was fully alarmed; and no
loosening or tightening would avail much. She was her old self again--as
bewitched as ever. She reared, she plunged, she kicked, she sidled, and
went through all the motions, which, on previous occasions, she had
always found eventually successful in ridding her back of its undesired
burden.

"Oh, do get off of the wild beast," cried Mistress Parris, in great
alarm.

"She is still bewitched," cried Abigail Williams. "I see a spectre now,
tormenting her with a pitchfork."

"Oh, Samuel, you will be killed!--do get off that crazy beast!" again
cried weeping Mistress Parris.

"'Get off!' yes!" thought the minister; "but how am I going to do it,
with the beast plunging and tearing in this fashion?" The animal
evidently wanted him off, and he was very anxious to get off; but she
would not hold still long enough for him to dismount peaceably.

"Hold her while I dismount!" he cried to John Indian. But when John
Indian came near to take hold of the rein by her mouth, the mare snapped
at him viciously with her teeth; and then wheeled around and flung out
her heels at his head, in the most embarrassing manner.

Finally, as with a new idea, the mare started down the lane at a quick
gallop, turned to the left, where a rivulet had been damned up into a
little pond not more than two feet deep, and plunged into the water,
splashing it up around her like a many jetted fountain.

By this time, the minister, being only human, naturally was very angry;
and commenced lashing her sides with his riding whip to get her into the
lane again. This made the fiery little creature perfectly desperate, and
she reared up and backwards, until she came down plump into the water;
so that, if the saddle girth had not broken, and the saddle come off,
and the minister with it, she might have tumbled upon him and perhaps
seriously hurt him. But, as it was, no great damage was done; and the
bridle also breaking, the mare spit the bit out of her mouth, and went
down the lane in a run to the road, and thence on into the now
fast-gathering night, no one could see whither.

Mistress Parris, John Indian and the rest were by this time at the side
of the pond, and ready to receive the chapfallen minister as he emerged
with the saddle and the broken bridle from the water.

"You are a sight, Samuel Parris!" said his wife, in that