I was coming down past the
Shambles into Duck Bank--very slowly, because I could hear a tram
coming along from the market-place--and just as I got past the
Shambles and could see along the market-place, I saw a lad on a
cart-horse and leading another horse. No stirrups, no saddle. He'd no
more control over either horse than a baby over an elephant. Not a bit
more. Both horses were running away. The horse he was supposed to
be leading was galloping first. They were passing the tram at a fine
rate."
"But how far were they off you?"
"About ten yards. I said to myself, 'If that chap doesn't look out
he'll be all over me in two seconds.' I turned as sharp as I could
away to the left. I could have turned sharper if I'd had your bicycle
in my right hand instead of my left. But it wouldn't have made any
difference. The first horse simply made straight for me. There was
about a mile of space for him between me and the tram, but he wouldn't
look at it. He wanted me, and he had me. They both had me. I never
felt the actual shock. Curious, that! I'm told one horse put his foot
clean through the back wheel of my bike. Then he was stopped by the
front palings of the Conservative Club. Oh! a pretty smash! The other
horse and the boy thereon finished half-way up Moorthorne Road.
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