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Updated: June 14, 2025
I wonder if your father won't let you go down to Long Lake with me after dinner, to see the hockey match." "Is it far from here?" "About two miles. We can drive down in our cutter. Father will let me have the cutter and old Rusher, I'm sure." "I'll see about it," said Bert. "I'd like to see the hockey match very much." As soon as he got the chance Bert questioned his parent about going.
Bert loved to ride and drive, but it must be confessed that he did not enjoy racing. The road was rather uneven, and he could not help but think what the consequences might be if the cutter should strike a deep hollow or a big stone. "Don't let Rusher run away," he said to his friend. "Be careful." Bob was by this time having his hands so full that he could not answer.
"Old Rusher can go yet," said Bert, who enjoyed the manner in which the black steed stepped out. "He must have been a famous race horse in his day." "He was," answered Bob. "He won ever so many prizes." The distance to Long Lake was covered almost before Bert knew it. As the hockey game was not yet begun they spent half an hour in driving over the road that led around the lake.
Old Rusher was a black steed which, in years gone by, had won many a race on the track. He had belonged to a brother to Mr. Ramdell, who had died rather suddenly two years before. He was, as Bert had said, rather old, but there was still a good deal of fire left in him, as the boys were soon to discover to their cost.
"I don't know about this," said Mr. Bobbsey slowly. "Do you think you two boys can be trusted alone with the horse?" "Oh, yes, papa. Bob has driven old Rusher many times." "You must remember, Rusher used to be a race horse. He may run away with Bob and you." "Oh, but that was years ago, papa. He is too old to run away now. Please say yes." Bert continued to plead, and in the end Mr.
Worry Arthurs ran out, and he and Weir carried Raymond to the bench, where they bathed his head and wiped the blood from his face. Presently Raymond opened his eyes. "Wull, what struck me?" he asked. "Oh, nothin'. There was a trolley loose in the field," replied Worry. "Can you get up? Why did you try to block that football rusher?" Raymond shook his head.
"We must get home," said he to Bob. "I promised to be back by five." "Oh, we'll get back in no time," said Bob. "Remember, Rusher has had a good rest." They were soon on the road again, Rusher kicking up his heels livelier than before, for the run down to the lake had merely enabled him to get the stiffness out of his limbs.
Just as Jorrocks has pulled that out, his horse, who is a bit of a rusher, and has got his "monkey" completely up, pushes forward while his master is yet stooping and hitting him in the rear, knocks him clean through the fence, head foremost into a squire-trap beyond!
Bob was beside him, and both floundered around wildly until almost the bottom of the pit was reached. "Oh, Bob!" "Oh, Bert! Are you hurt?" "Don't know as I am. But what a tumble!" "Rusher has run away!" "I was afraid he'd do that." For a minute the two boys knew not what to do. The deep snow lay all around them and how to get out of the pit was a serious question.
"It would be just like him," sighed Bob. "It will make an awful bill to pay, won't it?" A little further on they came to where a barn and a wagon shed lined the road. Under the shed stood a horse and cutter. "My gracious me!" burst out Bob. "Why why is it Rusher?" gasped Bert. "It is!" shouted his friend. Both boys ran up, and as they did so a farmer came from the barn. "Oh, Mr.
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