CHAPTER XVIII.
A "HOLD-UP."
For the time being, Matt, on the seat of the heavily-laden wagon, felt certain that the entire turn-out must come to grief, and that very soon. Billy, thoroughly frightened by the thunder and lightning, was straining every nerve to make his way through the woods, despite brush, stones, and fallen trees.
Between the flashes of light the way beneath the trees was almost totally dark. The rain swept this way and that, and Matt, standing up on the footrest, was soaked to the skin.
"Whoa, Billy, old boy! Whoa!" he called again. "You are all right!"
But the scared horse paid no attention to his call. His nerves seemed to be strained to their utmost, and on he plunged, dragging the wagon along with bumps and jolts, which more than once threatened to land the young auctioneer out on his head.
Realizing that something must be done quickly if
