"Are you hurt?" I asked.
"Oh no," she said, "but I am shaken up a bit. I cannot tell you how
grateful I am! I don't believe I ever can tell you!"
"Do not speak of that." I said, quickly. "Perhaps you would feel
better if you were to sit down somewhere."
"Oh, I don't want to sit down," said she. "I am so glad to have my
feet on the solid earth again that that is enough for me. It was a
bear that frightened him--a bear lying down by the side of the road a
little way back. He never ran away before, but when he saw that bear
he gave a great shy and a bolt, and he was off. I just got a glimpse
of the beast."
I was very anxious to change the conversation, and suggested that I
lead the horse into the shade, for the sun was blazing down upon us.
The horse submitted to be led to the side of the road, but he was very
nervous, and looked everywhere for the approach of shaggy bears.
"It is perfectly dreadful," she said, when she again approached me,
"for people to leave bears about in that way. I suppose he was
fastened, for it could not have been a wild beast. They do not lie
down by the side of the road. I do not say that I was rattled, but I
expected every second that there would be a smash, and there would
have been if it had not been for--"
"It is a wonder you were not thrown out," I interrupted, "those carts
are so tall."
"Yes," she answered, "and if I hadn't slipped off the driving-cushion
at the first shy I would have been out sure. I never had anything
happen like this, but who could have expected a great bear by the side
of the road?"
"Have you far to go?" I asked.
"Not very--about three miles. I made a call this morning on the other
road, and was driving home. My name is Miss Larramie. My father's
place is on this road. He is Henry Esmond Larramie." I had heard of
the gentleman, but had never met him. "I am not afraid of horses,"
she continued, "but I do not know about driving this one now. He looks
as if he were all ready to bolt again."
"Oh, it would not do for you to drive him," I said. "That would be
extremely risky."
"I might walk home," she said, "but I could not leave the horse."
"Let me think a minute," said I. Then presently I asked, "Will this
horse stand if he is hitched?"
"Oh yes," she answered; "I always hitch him when I make calls. There
is a big strap under the seat which goes around his neck, and then
through a ring in his bit. He has to stand--he can't get away."