Joe the Hotel Boy

AN UNFORTUNATE OUTING.

Fortunately for the unhappy Felix the horse walked away from the hotel in an orderly fashion, and soon they gained the highway leading to the resort the party wished to visit.

Had the dude left the horse alone all might have gone well.  But he deemed it necessary to pull on first one line and then the other, which kept the carriage in a meandering course.

“I don’t think, Mr. Gussing, that you can be much used to driving,” said one of the young ladies, presently.

“That’s a fact,” answered the dude.

“Why don’t you keep to the right of the road?”

“Well,—­er—­the fact is, this horse is a very difficult one to drive.  I don’t believe I ever drove one which was more so.”

As this was the first horse Mr. Gussing had ever driven, this assertion was true in every particular.

“Oh, I can’t travel so slow!” cried one of the young ladies, and seized the whip, and before Felix could stop her, used it on the steed.

The effect was magical.  The horse started up like a racer, and tore through the street as if trying to win a race for a thousand dollars.

The dude clung to the reins in the wildest terror.  To his frenzied imagination it seemed that his final hour was approaching.

“Whoa!” he screamed, jerking on the lines.  “Stop, you crazy beast!  Stop, before we all get killed!”

But the horse only went the faster.  And now, to increase his alarm, he saw a buggy approaching from the opposite direction.  It contained one of the town lawyers, Silas Simms by name.

“We shall run into that buggy!” screamed the fair Belle.  “Oh, Mr. Gussing, be careful!”

A moment later the two turnouts came together with a crash, and one wheel was torn from the buggy and the town lawyer pitched out headlong to the ground.  Then on went the carriage with the dude and the two young ladies, at a faster pace than ever.

“Let me jump out!” screamed one of the ladies.

“No, not yet!  You’ll be killed, Grace,” answered Belle.

“Then stop the carriage!”

Alas, the poor Felix was already doing his best to stop the horse.  But his jerkings on the reins only added to the horse’s wildness.

Not far along the road was a good sized brook, spanned by a neat wooden bridge.  As the carriage neared the bridge, Felix pulled on the wrong rein once again.  The horse turned from the road proper, and descended full speed into the stream itself.

“Oh, now we’ll be drowned!” shrieked Grace.

But she was mistaken.  The stream was easily fordable, so there was no danger on that score.  But the rate at which they were impelled through the water naturally created no inconsiderable splashing, so that on emerging on the other side the dude, as well as the young ladies, were well drenched.

To the great joy of Felix the contact with the water cooled the ardor of the steed, so that he resumed the journey at a far more moderate rate of speed.

“Wasn’t it just glorious!” cried Belle, who, after the danger seemed past, grew enthusiastic.  “What a noble animal!”

“Glorious?” echoed the dude.  “I don’t care much about such glory.  As for the noble animal—­I—­er—­I wish he was hung!  That’s the best he deserves.”

The dude spoke bitterly, for the spell of terror was still on him.  Had he consulted his own wishes he would have leaped from the carriage and left the ladies to their fate.

But the thought of the bewitching Belle made him keep his seat, and he resolved that if he must die he would do it like a martyr.

The horse went on, and at last they neared the end of the short journey.  But here a new obstacle presented itself.  There was a big fence and a gate, and the gate was tight shut.

As they could not enter the grounds without opening the gate, the dude got down out of the carriage.  He did not hand the reins to either of the ladies but laid them over the dashboard.

The instant the gate was swung open the steed darted forward, and brought up with a jerk against a post that happened to be in the way.  Here he reared and plunged, causing the young ladies to scream “murder” at the top of their voices.

“Oh, my!  Oh, dear me!” bawled Felix, and took refuge behind a neighboring hedge.  “The horse has gone crazy!  He’ll bite somebody next!”

The cries reached some men who were not far off, and they came running to the assistance of the party.  One caught the steed by the bridle and soon had him quieted down.

“I’ll never drive that horse again!” said the dude.  “Not for a million dollars!”

“How are we to get home?” queried Belle.

“I’ll drive you,” said one of the men.  “I know this horse.  He used to belong to Bill Perkins.  I know how to handle him.”

“Then do so,” answered Felix, “and I’ll pay you two dollars.”

The man was as good as his word, and to Felix’s astonishment he made the horse go back to the hotel without the slightest mishap.  Then the horse was put in the stable, the dude paid the bill, and the party separated.

“I shall never drive again, never!” declared the dude to himself, and it may be added that he kept his word.

“I hope you had a nice drive,” said Joe, when he met Felix that evening.

“It was beastly, don’t you know,” was the answer.  “That horse was a terribly vicious creature.”

“He looked to be gentle enough when he started off.”

“I think he is a crazy horse.”

“By the way, Mr. Gussing, Mr. Silas Simms was looking for you.”

“You mean that lawyer who drives the spotted white horse?”

“Yes.”

Felix gave a groan.

“He says he wants damages.”

“It wasn’t my fault that the horse ran into him.”

“Well, he is very angry about it, anyway,” said our hero.

Early the next morning Felix Gussing received a communication from the lawyer.  It was in the following terms:—­

“Mr. Gussing.  Sir:—­In consequence of your reckless driving yesterday, I was thrown from my carriage, receiving a contusion on my shoulder and other injuries.  My carriage was also nearly ruined.  If you choose to make a race-course of the public highways you must abide the consequences.  The damage I have sustained I cannot estimate at less than one hundred and fifty dollars.  Indemnify me for that and I will go no further.  Otherwise, I shall be compelled to resort to legal action.

“Silas Simms, Atty.”

Felix read the letter several times and his knees shook visibly.  He did not want to pay over such an amount, yet it struck him with terror when he thought he might possibly be arrested for fast driving.  He went to see Mr. Silas Simms.

“I am very sorry,” he began.

“Have you come to pay?” demanded the attorney, curtly.

“Well—­er—­the fact is—­don’t you think you are asking rather a stiff price, Mr. Simms?”

“Not at all!  Not at all, sir!  I ought to have placed the damages at three hundred!”

“I’ll give you fifty dollars and call it square.”

“No, sir, a hundred and fifty!  Not a penny less, not one penny!  Look at my nose, sir—­all scratched!  And my ear!  Not a penny less than one hundred and fifty dollars!” And the lawyer pounded on his desk with his fist.

“All right then, I’ll pay you, but you must give me a receipt in full,” answered the dude.

He had to wait until the bank opened, that he might cash a check, and then he paid over the amount demanded.  The lawyer drew up a legal paper discharging him from all further obligations.  Felix read it with care and stowed it in his pocket.

“And now let me give you some advice, Mr. Gussing,” said the lawyer, after the transaction was concluded.  “Don’t drive such a wild horse again.”

“Depend upon it, I never shall,” answered the dude.  “It costs too much!” he added, with a faint smile.

“Are you well acquainted with horses?”

“No.”

“Then you had better leave them alone altogether.”

“I have already made up my mind to do so.”