One day Uncle Wash was ploughing, and he put me on the back of Old Whitey. Well, I liked that very much, and began to cluck, and jerk the reins, to make him go along; when in an instant, without any warning, he pricked up his ears, kicked up his heels, and ran away, leaving the plough behind.
I can't tell you how scared I was. I held on as long as I could; but it was of no use. The old horse ran through swamps and bogs, and dropped me, head first, in the mud and dirt. I was hurt on my head and side, but I would not cry because I was too big for that. When the men got to me, I was hunting for my hat.
After getting rid of his load, the runaway coolly walked up to the barn, and stood looking as mild as a lamb. I didn't have any faith in Old Whitey after that, though his master said he never knew him to do such a thing before.

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