"Well, well, there is no need of that! You may ride as far as the
river's bank and back again in time to escape, if you choose!" said
Mrs. Condiment, who saw that her troublesome charge was bent upon
the frolic.
And Cap, seeing her horse approach, led by one of the grooms, ran
up-stairs, donned her riding habit, hat and gloves, ran down again,
sprang into her saddle and was off, galloping away toward the river
before Mrs. Condiment could add another word of warning.
She had been gone about an hour, when the sky suddenly darkened, the
wind rose and the thunder rolled in prelude to the storm.
Major Warfield came skurrying home from the mill, grasping his
bridle with one hand and holding his hat on with the other.
Meeting poor old Ezy in the shrubbery, he stormed out upon him with:
"What are you lounging there for, you old idiot! You old sky-gazing
lunatic! Don't you see that we are going to have an awful blow!
Begone with you and see that the cattle are all under shelter! Off,
I say, or," he rode toward Bill Ezy, but the old man, exclaiming:
"Yes, sir--yes, sir! In coorse, sir!" ducked his head and ran off in
good time.
Major Warfield quickened his horse's steps and rode to the house,
dismounted and threw the reins to the stable boy, exclaiming:
"My beast is dripping with perspiration--rub him down well you
knave, or I'll impale you!"
Striding into the hall, he threw down his riding whip, pulled off
his gloves and called:
"Wool! Wool, you scoundrel, close every door and window in the
house! Call all the servants together in the dining-room; we're
going to have one of the worst tempests that ever raised!"
Wool flew to do his bidding.
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