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The ponies were coming down upon the quarry at an acute angle. The antelope's beautiful, spidery legs flashed back and forth like piston-rods, or the spokes of a fast-rolling wheel. They could scarcely be seen clearly. In five minutes the antelope would have drawn far enough away from the chase to be safe and he could have kept up his pace for half an hour. Frances was near, however.
That is, the goat the cap'n's kiddin' I mean the goat that's kiddin' the cap the skiddin' she-goat Aw, rats! ye know what I'm drivin' at. Me tongue so dry it don't work right." Wherewith Tim retreated in disorder to his room and began wrestling with his new hammock and the iron hooks. Swift darkness filled the rooms. The sun had slid down below the bulge of the fast-rolling world.
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