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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
249
For
a
moment
it
looked
like
being
real
Nicholls-and-Jackson
stuff,
but,
fortunately,
a
quick
zig
on
my
part,
coinciding
with
an
adroit
zag
on
the
part
of
the
pig,
enabled
me
to
win
through,
and
I
continued
my
ride
safe,
but
with
the
heart
fluttering
like
a
captive
bird.
The
effect
of
this
narrow
squeak
upon
me
was
to
shake
the
nerve
to
the
utmost.
The
fact
that
pigs
were
abroad
in
the
night
seemed
to
bring
home
to
me
the
perilous
nature
of
my
enterprise.
It
set
me
thinking
of
all
the
other
things
that
could
happen
to
a
man
out
and
about
on
a
velocipede
without
a
lamp
after
lighting-up
time.
In
particular,
I
recalled
the
statement
of
a
pal
of
mine
that
in
certain
sections
of
the
rural
districts
goats
were
accustomed
to
stray
across
the
road
to
the
extent
of
their
chains,
thereby
forming
about
as
sound
a
booby
trap
as
one
could
well
wish.
He
mentioned,
I
remember,
the
case
of
a
friend
of
his
whose
machine
got
entangled
with
a
goat
chain
and
who
was
dragged
seven
miles--like
skijoring
in
Switzerland--so
that
he
was
never
the
same
man
again.
And
there
was
one
chap
who
ran
into
an
elephant,
left
over
from
a
travelling
circus.
Indeed,
taking
it
for
all
in
all,
it
seemed
to
me
that,
with
the
possible
exception
of
being
bitten
by
sharks,
there
was
virtually
no
front-page
disaster
that
could
not
happen
to
a
fellow,
once
he
had
allowed
his
dear
ones
to
override
his
better
judgment
and
shove
him
out
into
the
great
unknown
on
a
push-bike,
and
I
am
not
ashamed
to
confess
that,
taking
it
by
and
large,
the
amount
of
quailing
I
did
from
this
point
on
was
pretty
considerable.
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