But Callaghan did n't budge--at
least not until Dave dug both heels into him. Then he made a blind rush
and knocked out a panel of the yard--and got away with Dave. Off he went,
plunging, galloping, pig-jumping, breaking loose limbs and bark off trees
with Dave's legs. A wire-fence was in his way. It parted like the Red
Sea when he came to it--he crashed into it and rolled over. The saddle
was dangling under his belly when he got up; Dave and the bridle were
under the fence. But the storm had come, and such a storm! Hailstones as
big as apples nearly--first one here and there, and next moment in
thousands.
Paddy Maloney and Joe ran for the house; Dave, with an injured ankle and a
cut head, limped painfully in the same direction; but Dad saw the
plough-horses turning and twisting about in their chains and set out for
them. He might as well have started off the cross the continent. A
hailstone, large enough to kill a cow, fell with a thud a yard or two in
advance of him, and he slewed like a hare and made for the house also. He
was getting it hot. Now and again his hands would go up to protect his
head, but he could n't run that way--he could n't run much any way.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190