“Jonadab said no, emphatic and more’n average ugly, but Henry G. kept beggin’ and pleadin’, and pretty soon the widow put in her oar.  He must do it, to please her.  He had said he could do it—­had told her so—­and now he must make good.  Why, when Mr. Loveland—­

“‘All right,’ snarls Jonadab.  ‘I’ll try.  But if ever—­’

“‘Hold on!’ says I.  ‘Here’s where I get out.’

“However, they wouldn’t let me, and the Cap’n took the wheel.  His jaw was set and his hands shakin’, but he done it.  Hettie had give her orders and she was skipper.

“For a consider’ble spell we just crawled.  Jonadab was steerin’ less crooked every minute and it tickled him; you could see that.

“‘Answers her hellum tiptop, don’t she?’ he says.

“‘Bet your life!’ says Bradbury.  ’Better put on a little more speed, hadn’t we?’”

He put it on himself, afore the new pilot could stop him, and we commenced to move.

“‘When you want to make her jump,’ he says, you press down on that with your foot, and you shove the spark back.’

“‘Shut up!’ howls Jonadab.  ’Belay!  Don’t you dast to touch that.  I’m scart to death as ‘tis.  Here! you take this wheel.’

“But he wouldn’t, and we went on at a good clip.  For a green hand the Cap’n was leavin’ a pretty straight wake.

“‘Gosh!’ he says, after a spell; ‘I b’lieve I’m kind of gettin’ the hang of the craft.’

“‘Course you are,’ says Bradbury.  ‘I told—­Oh!’

“He straightens up, grabs at his vest, and slumps down against the back of the seat.

“‘What is it?’ screams the widow.  ‘Oh, what is it, Mr. Bradbury?’

“He answers, plucky, but toler’ble faintlike.  My heart!’ he gasps.  ‘I—­I’m afraid I’m goin’ to have one of my attacks.  I must get to a doctor quick.’

“‘Doctor!’ I sings out.  ’Great land of love! there ain’t a doctor nigher than Denboro, and that’s four mile astern.’

“‘Never mind,’ cries the Bassett woman.  ’We must go there, then.  Turn around, Jonadab!  Turn around at once!  Mr. Bradbury—­’

“But poor Henry G. was curled up against the cushions and we couldn’t get nothin’ out of him but groans.  And all the time we was sailin’ along up the road.

“‘Turn around, Jonadab!’ orders Henrietta.  ’Turn around and go for the doctor!’

“Jonadab’s hands was clutched on that wheel, and his face was white as his rubber collar.

“‘Jerushy!’ he groans desperate, ‘I—­I don’t know how to turn around.’

“‘Then stop, you foolhead!’ I bellers.  ‘Stop where you be!’

“And he moans—­almost cryin’ he was:  ‘I—­I’ve forgotten how to stop.’

“Talk about your situations!  If we wa’n’t in one then I miss my guess.  Every minute we was sinkin’ Denboro below the horizon.

“‘We must get to a doctor,’ says the widow.  ’Where is there another one, Mr. Wingate?’