He was afraid. He said he would not ride five miles outside
for a month's wages. Marco laughed at the sailor's fears, and he
immediately asked Forester to let _him_ ride outside. Forester
hesitated, but on looking up, and seeing that there was a secure seat,
with a good place to hold on, he consented. So Marco clambered up
and took his seat with the driver, while the other passengers
re-established themselves in the stage.
Chapter II.
Accidents.
Marco liked his seat upon the outside of the stage-coach very much. He
could see the whole country about him to great advantage. He was very
much interested in the scenery, not having been accustomed to travel
among forests and mountains. The driver was a rough young man, - for
the boy who drove the coach up to the door was not the regular driver.
He was not disposed to talk much, and his tone and manner, in what he
did say, did not indicate a very gentle disposition. Marco, however,
at last got a little acquainted with him, and finally proposed to the
driver to let _him_ drive.
"Nonsense," said he, in reply, "you are not big enough to drive such a
team as this."
"Why, there was a boy, no bigger than I, that drove the horses up to
the door when we started, this morning," replied Marco.
"O yes, - Jerry," - said the driver, - "but he'll break his neck one of
these days."
"I didn't see but that he drove very well," said Marco.
The driver was silent.
"Come," persisted Marco, "let me drive a little way, and I'll do as
much for you some day."
"You little fool," said the driver, "you never can do any thing for
me. You are not big enough to be of any use at all."
Marco thought of the fable of the mouse and the lion, but since his
new companion was in such ill-humor, he thought he would say no more
to him. A resentful reply to the epithet "little fool," did in fact
rise to his lips, but he suppressed it and said nothing.
It was fortunate for Marco that he did so. For whenever any person has
said any thing harsh, unjust, or cruel, the most effectual reply is,
generally, silence. It leaves the offender to think of what he has
said, and conscience will often reprove him in silence, far more
effectually than words could do it. This was the case in this
instance. As they rode along in silence, the echo of the words "little
fool," and the tone in which he had uttered them, lingered upon the
driver's ear. He could not help thinking that he had been rather harsh
with his little passenger. Presently he said,
"I don't care though, - we are coming to a level piece of ground on
ahead here a little way, and then I'll see what you can make of
teaming."
Marco was quite pleased at this unexpected result, and after ten or
fifteen minutes, they came to the level piece of road, and the driver
put the reins into Marco's hand. Marco had sometimes driven two
horses, when riding out with his father in a barouche, up the
Bloomingdale road in New York. He was therefore not entirely
unaccustomed to the handling of reins; and he took them from the
driver's hand and imitated the manner of holding them which he had
observed the driver himself to adopt, quite dexterously.
The horses, in fact, needed very little guidance. They went along the
road very quietly of their own accord. Marco kept wishing that a
wagon or something else would come along, that he might have the
satisfaction of turning out. But nothing of the kind appeared, and he
was obliged to content himself with turning a little to one side,
to avoid a stone. At the end of the level piece of road there was a
tavern, where they were going to stop to change the horses, and Marco
asked the driver to let him turn the horses up to the door. The driver
consented, keeping a close watch all the time, ready to seize the
reins again at a moment's notice, if there had been any appearance of
difficulty. But there was none. Marco guided the horses right, and
drawing in the reins with all his strength, he brought them up
properly at the door; or rather, he seemed to do it, - for, in
reality, the horses probably acted as much of their own accord, being
accustomed to stop at this place, as from any control which Marco
exercised over them through the reins.
There was, however, an advantage in this evolution, for Marco became
accustomed to the feeling of the reins in his hand, and acquired a
sort of confidence in his power over the horses, - greater to be sure
than there was any just ground for, but which was turned to a very
important account, a few hours afterward, as will be seen in the
sequel.
The sailor went several times into the taverns on the way, in the
course of the afternoon, to drink, until, at length, he became
partially intoxicated. He felt, however, so much restrained in the
presence of the passengers within the coach, that he did not become
talkative and noisy, as is frequently the case in such circumstances;
but was rather stupid and sleepy. In fact, no one observed that any
change was taking place in his condition, until, at last, as he was
coming out from the door of a tavern, where he had been in to get
another drink, the driver said,
"Come, Jack, you must get up with me now, there is another passenger
to get in here."
Marco, who was still in his seat, holding the reins of the horses,
looked down, expecting that the sailor would make objections to this
proposal, - but he found, on the contrary, that Jack, as they called
him, acquiesced without making any difficulty, and allowed the driver
to help him up.
