'Yes,' said I; 'but I was thinking what father will say when he hears you took the fast horses, after all!'

'What will he say? why, nothing, when he sees you safe and sound; besides, what's the use of telling him anything about it; he won't ask any questions when I take you home with the brown mare, and I'm sure Joe and Biel won't be mean enough to speak of the sorrels.'

Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863 — Part 114

I tried to feel satisfied, though I knew it was wrong; but I thought to myself, 'There's no help for it _now_.'

Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863 — Part 114

So we jogged along slowly till we came to a place where a thick clump of elders divides the road into two paths; it is just at the steepest part of the mountain, and the path on the left is very narrow, and right on the edge of the precipice. At that minute Abby Matilda looked around, and called out, in her spiteful way, 'It must be dreadful hard for Thunder and Lightning to keep in the rear; what a pity we can't let you pass us, _Mr._ Hassel!'

Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863 — Part 114

I suppose she vexed Ned, for he answered, 'Perhaps we _can_ do it if we try, _Miss Stevens_,' and before I could speak he turned his horses into the narrow part of the road! I looked down the side of the mountain, and it made me feel so sick and giddy that I put out my hands and caught the lines; this gave them a sudden jerk, the near horse started, and began to back--Abby screamed, and that frightened him more--I felt the wheel going over the edge--the bushes were close on the other side of the wagon--there was no place to jump--Ned dropped the lines and sprang out at the back--I remember seeing something break through the bushes at the horses' heads, and that is the last I recollect, for I fainted away and fell in the bottom of the wagon.

When I came to my senses I felt so strange and confused I did not know where I was; my head had a dull pain in it, and when I touched it, I found it was bandaged up, and my forehead felt sore and bruised. Some one took hold of my hand, and I heard a sobbing; I opened my eyes, and made out that I was on my own bed at home. Calanthy was standing by me, and Polly Jane sat by the foot of the bed crying as if her heart would break. I tried to think, but I couldn't get things right; and the picnic seemed like something that had happened a great while ago.