Springing from her horse, she went up to Wool and said:
"Here, man, take this horse back to Hurricane Hall! Tell Major
Warfield that Miss Black remains at the Hidden House in imminent
danger! Ask him to ride there and bring her home! Tell Miss Black
when you see her that I reached Tip Top safe and in time to take the
coach. Tell her I will never cease to be grateful! And now, here is
a half eagle for your trouble! Good-by, and God bless you!" And she
put the piece in his hand and took her place in the coach, which
immediately started.
As for Wool! From the time that Clara had thrown aside her veil and
began to speak to him he had stood staring and staring--his
consternation growing and growing--until it had seemed to have
turned him into stone--from which state of petrefaction he did not
recover until he saw the stage coach roll rapidly away, carrying
off--whom?--Capitola, Clara or the evil one?--Wool could not have
told which! He presently astounded the people about the stage office
by leaving his horses and taking to his heels after the stage coach,
vociferating:
"Murder! murder! help! help! stop thief! stop thief! stop the coach!
stop the coach!"
"What is the matter, man?" said a constable, trying to head him.
But Wool incontinently ran over that officer, throwing him down and
keeping on his headlong course, hat off, coat-tail streaming and
legs and arms flying like the sails of a windmill, as he tried to
overtake the coach, crying:
"Help! murder! head the horses! Stop the coach! Old marse told me
not to lose sight of her! Oh, for hebben's sake, good people, stop
the coach!"
When he got to a gate, instead of taking time to open it, he rolled
himself somersault-like right over it! When he met man or woman,
instead of turning from his straight course, he knocked them over
and passed on, garments flying and legs and arms circulating with
the velocity of a wheel.
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