“Cut it!  Cut it!” cried Mr. Buller.

“I haven’t a knife,” replied Podington.

Mr. Buller was terribly frightened; his boat was cutting through the water as never vessel of her class had sped since sail-boats were invented, and bumping against the bank as if she were a billiard-ball rebounding from the edge of a table.  He forgot he was in a boat; he only knew that for the first time in his life he was in a runaway.  He let go the tiller.  It was of no use to him.

“William,” he cried, “let us jump out the next time we are near enough to shore!”

“Don’t do that!  Don’t do that!” replied Podington.  “Don’t jump out in a runaway; that is the way to get hurt.  Stick to your seat, my boy; he can’t keep this up much longer.  He’ll lose his wind!”

Mr. Podington was greatly excited, but he was not frightened, as Buller was.  He had been in a runaway before, and he could not help thinking how much better a wagon was than a boat in such a case.

“If he were hitched up shorter and I had a snaffle-bit and a stout pair of reins,” thought he, “I could soon bring him up.”

But Mr. Buller was rapidly losing his wits.  The horse seemed to be going faster than ever.  The boat bumped harder against the bank, and at one time Buller thought they could turn over.

Suddenly a thought struck him.

“William,” he shouted, “tip that anchor over the side!  Throw it in, any way!”

Mr. Podington looked about him, and, almost under his feet, saw the anchor.  He did not instantly comprehend why Buller wanted it thrown overboard, but this was not a time to ask questions.  The difficulties imposed by the life-preserver, and the necessity of holding on with one hand, interfered very much with his getting at the anchor and throwing it over the side, but at last he succeeded, and just as the boat threw up her bow as if she were about to jump on shore, the anchor went out and its line shot after it.  There was an irregular trembling of the boat as the anchor struggled along the bottom of the canal; then there was a great shock; the boat ran into the bank and stopped; the tow-line was tightened like a guitar-string, and the horse, jerked back with great violence, came tumbling in a heap upon the ground.

Instantly Mr. Podington was on the shore and running at the top of his speed toward the horse.  The astounded animal had scarcely begun to struggle to his feet when Podington rushed upon him, pressed his head back to the ground, and sat upon it.

“Hurrah!” he cried, waving his hat above his head.  “Get out, Buller; he is all right now!”

Presently Mr. Buller approached, very much shaken up.

“All right?” he said.  “I don’t call a horse flat in a road with a man on his head all right; but hold him down till we get him loose from my boat.  That is the thing to do.  William, cast him loose from the boat before you let him up!  What will he do when he gets up?”