"I got hold of one of them," said the sputtering Buller, "but it was
fast to something and I couldn't get it loose."
"Was it thick and wide?" asked Podington.
"Yes," was the answer; "it did seem so."
"Oh, that was a trace," said Podington; "I don't want that; the reins
are thinner and lighter."
"Now I remember they are," said Buller. "I'll go down again."
Again Mr. Buller leaned over the dashboard, and this time he remained
down longer, and when he came up he puffed and sputtered more than
before.
"Is this it?" said he, holding up a strip of wet leather.
"Yes," said Podington, "you've got the reins."
"Well, take them, and steer. I would have found them sooner if his
tail had not got into my eyes. That long tail's floating down there
and spreading itself out like a fan; it tangled itself all around my
head. It would have been much easier if he had been a bob-tailed
horse."
"Now then," said Podington, "take your hat, Thomas, and I'll try to
drive."
Mr. Buller put on his hat, which was the only dry thing about him, and
the nervous Podington started the horse so suddenly that even the
sea-legs of Buller were surprised, and he came very near going
backward into the water; but recovering himself, he sat down.
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