street, but as well might they
have attempted to arrest the wind. The shoes of Black Fan struck the
flinty limestones on the pike, the sparks flew, and her trail was a
veritable streak of fire. As the mare rounded the turn at Workman's
Hotel, Uncle Joe, as a parting shot, yelled:

"You can all go to h--ll."

How Alfred maintained his hold he never knew nor did the mare slacken
pace greatly until home was reached. Alfred is of the opinion to this
day that Uncle Joe forgot he carried a handicap.

The corn-cob stopper in a large bottle which Uncle Joe, (as was the
custom of farmers in those days), carried in his right hand overcoat
pocket, came out, the contents splashed in Alfred's face and saturated
his clothing. Alfred was almost stupefied with the fumes of the liquor
and had the distance been further he surely would have fallen from his
seat.

As the mare halted, Uncle Joe vigorously threw his leg over her back to
dismount, sweeping Alfred from his seat as though he had been a
rag-doll. Down he fell head first and no doubt sustained bodily injury
had not Providence, or a kindly cow deposited a cushion as soft as
velvet for his reception, and curls. His yells and calls brought the
family to the rescue. Alfred was not received as courteously as on
former visits; however, after a bath in a tub of not overly warm water,
the family were a trifle less distant.

The wife was very much provoked over the husband's actions.

Reinforced by Billy Hickman, the preacher, and several church members,
renewed her efforts to have Uncle Joe ally himself with the church.
Uncle Joe assured one good brother that if sheep-washing time was
over--it was then September and sheep are washed in May or June--he
would join the church. He explained that he felt he must have a little
"licker" sheep-washing time or he would "ketch the rheumatiz."

The District Fair was on, Black Fan was entered in the free-for-all
pace. She was considered a joke by horsemen and the knowing ones. But
Alfred would have bet all he had that Black Fan was the fastest goer in
the world. Ike Bailey's Black Bess, John Krepps' Billy, John Patterson's
Morgan Messenger, were the other entries, all under saddle except Morgan
Messenger. Patterson drove him to a sulky, the only sulky in the county,
the wheels higher than the head of the driver. It was the idea of the
builder the larger the wheels the greater the speed.

Black Fan had much the worst of the get-away and it l