"Think it's safe to go in out of the rain now?" asked Uncle Rob. "Nice horsie. They maligned you! You aren't afraid of railroad trains, are you? You never so much as batted an eye when that one went by."
Then we all piled back into the carriage, taking a part of the country road with us.
"It's a shame," said Bob, "to have got you all out that way; but I forgot all about the railroad on the other side of the river;—and this road is so desperately narrow right here, and besides, I'd promised."
"No apology necessary," said Uncle Rob. "We owe you a vote of thanks for having the train go by on the other side, instead of over here. Much obliged to you."
Bob laughed, and we started on again. The storm had settled down into a steady rain and blow with a good deal of thunder and lightning, and the road got to be something awful. The clay gathered on the horses' feet and then more stuck to that, and then more to that, until they looked as if they were walking with a peck measure on each foot; and the road was as slippery as grease, and there were washouts every little ways.
