Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1882-03-08

Fred for the moment forgot his er-
rand In tho intoxlcation Of 80 flying
through the air. II was no longer hot
The air swept against his face with q
force almost like continuous blow.
Thunderbolt appeared to have power
beyond the power Of mere horse,
He was a puissant genie, who could
make space as II II were not
Fred flung up his hand and uttered q
shrll whoop, lIe was monarch OF u
force as good as any IN tho "ArablOn
Nights" llc would not exchange his
scat on Thunderbolt for any magical
gift In that book. AT sound Of his cry
the colt lurched forward still faster and
snortcd, as II the heavy fragrant atmos-
phcrc were something which made him
drynk.
Already they had passed through
one village, which was three miles
away from the farmhouse he had left,
The boy was by this time filled with
the intbriation of his strange ride. lie
wanted to go faster and faster. His
cheeks were red and his eyes burned,
lie told himself that he must reach
Bucket Village by certain time, aud
Bucket Village was half way to North
port. 1t was u place where the whole
business was the making Of wooden
pals Of different kinds.
Now, just before he came to sharp
turn in the road, there emerged from
round the corner the first Of three tall
long wagons, piled high with wooden
pals. Fred, warned by the pricking
up of his horses ears, gathered the
lines more firmly in his hands and
made himself as strong in his seat a,
possible and all his precautions were
necessary, for Thunderbolt leaped to
one side as he shot by the wagon. The
boy swaycd fearfully; but he stuck,
and then the colt rose high in the air,
his front feet paving out, his whole
figure the picture Of terrible beauty.
Fred had reached the pitch where il
was impossible for him to fear any
thing he was too thoroughly filled
with excitement: but he was afraid
that Thunderbolt would now "cut up
some of his antics" and thus delay
their arrival in Northport. He pulled
sharply at the lines and pounded his
heels into the horses sides calling out
authoritivcly to him.
The man on the last wagon had
Jumped down from his seat and was
running up.
"Don't touch him." cried out Fred,
who was anxious above all things not to
be detained and whose blood was by
this time boiling, and who felt as if he
could be match for a hundred Thun-
derbolts.
The man fell back from before the
paving feet, looking in amazement at
the fery-eyed boy who sat upon the
horse.
On the second tone of sharp COM
mand, the colt, as if in surprise, dropped
his feet and darted away leaving the
man staring.
"Good gracious !" he exclaimed, as
he walked back to his wagon. "Was
that ere real horse n boy, or a ap'
pearance hope 'taint forewarnin
of nothin'! !"
When Fred passed through the next
village the clock was striking the hour,
and the sound sent thrill of apprehen-
sion through him, for it was ten min
utes later than the time at which he
had calculated to be in that place. He
had come fast enough; it was not that.
It must be that the clock at the farm
house had been slow, and what fatal
slowness that might be.
Fred thought of Clara; of her father
stepping; on board the boat never to
see her again ; and then came a re-
memberance of a cart-path which went
across piece Of woodland and came
out on the main road almost mile
nearer Northport than it was by the
travelled way. The path must be close
by here. He was sure he had not
passed it, and there it was. Without
hesitation, he turned his horses head
in that direction and rode on beneath
the low-droopins trees. More than
half way through he saw ahead of him
a fallen tree, lying directly across the
way. Can you imagine the pang
that went through the boys heart, as he
saw that? No time to 60 back, and
on each side thickly-growing wood,
filed with heavy growth of briar and
underbrush.