ld, Uncle Joe's voice awed them into jumping back again. Fence rails,
hoes, rakes or anything that came handy had so often been wielded by his
powerful arms on them that his voice was sufficient almost any time to
frighten horse, cow or hog into seeking safety in flight when he
shouted.

The day for Alfred's going to the country arrived. Aunt Betsy had the
neuralgia and Uncle Joe came alone on horseback. Meeting former friends,
he tarried long at the Tavern. When under the influence of stimulants he
became even louder. John Rathmell, the town watchman, endeavored to
quiet him. Finally, he ordered Uncle Joe to go home or he would arrest
him.

Uncle Joe was riding Black Fan, his fox-hunting mare. She was seventeen
hands high, mostly legs, a natural pacer. She could jump over anything
under the moon. Her hind legs the longer,--they seemed to be the
propelling power and appeared to move faster than her front legs. When
at top speed she traveled sort of sideways. This seemed a wise
provision of nature as it prevented her running over herself, or like a
stern-wheel boat, with too much power going by the head.

Uncle Joe obeyed the order of the officer of the law. Tardily, leisurely
and tantalizingly mounting Black Fan, taking Alfred up behind him, he
headed the mare in the opposite direction from home. Alfred feared he
was going down the hill into the "Neck" to get more liquor and he almost
decided to get off and go back home.

[Illustration: "You Can All Go to H--ll"]

At a pace as respectable as ever a funeral cortege traveled, Uncle Joe
rode until opposite the old market house, there turning the mare around
heading her homeward. Straightening her out in the middle of the road,
rising in his stirrups to emphasize his contempt for the law in the
person of the watchman, Uncle Joe gave vent to a yell that brought
store-keepers to the doors, pedestrians to turn around and drivers to
pull to the side of the street.

He gave the mare her head. At the sound of the voice nearer and
consequently louder than ever before, she shot forward at a speed never
equalled on that street. At every revolution of her hind legs her body
under Alfred rose and fell like a toy boat on a ruffled bay. Uncle Joe
rose and fell with the movement and at every rise he yelled even louder
than before.

[Illustration: The End of the Ride]

The minion of the law and several idlers, always seeking an opportunity
to meddle, rushed to the middle of the