We got up the hill pretty steady. Then the liquor began to work
into his head. I've taken home a drunken man more than once and
there's pleasanter jobs than that. I've seen a drunken woman, and
they're worse. But a drunken Welsh pony I never want to have
anything more to do with so long as I live. Having four legs he
managed to hold himself up; but as to guiding himself, he couldn't;
and as for letting me do it, he wouldn't. First we were one side of
the road, and then we were the other. When we were not either side,
we were crossways in the middle. I heard a bicycle bell behind me,
but I dared not turn my head. All I could do was to shout to the
fellow to keep where he was.
"'I want to pass you,' he sang out, so soon as he was near enough.
"'Well, you can't do it,' I called back.
"'Why can't I?' he answered. 'How much of the road do YOU want?'
"'All of it and a bit over,' I answered him, 'for this job, and
nothing in the way.'
"He followed me for half-a-mile, abusing me; and every time he
thought he saw a chance he tried to pass me. But the pony was
always a bit too smart for him. You might have thought the brute
was doing it on purpose.
"'You're not fit to be driving,' he shouted.
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