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Nor
did
it
vanish
abruptly
from
his
view
;
but
slowly
and
gradually
:
first
the
head
of
the
horse
;
then
the
neck
and
shoulders
;
then
the
shape
,
half
ghastly
,
half
grotesque
,
of
the
rider
;
then
the
hind-quarters
of
the
animal
;
the
hips
;
and
last
of
all
the
long
tapering
tail
!
"
Geehosophat
!
"
It
was
not
surprise
at
the
disappearance
of
the
headless
horseman
that
extorted
this
exclamation
from
the
lips
of
Zeb
Stump
.
There
was
nothing
strange
about
this
.
The
spectacle
had
simply
passed
behind
the
proscenium
--
represented
by
the
tope
of
tree
tops
rising
above
the
bluff
.
"
Geehosophat
!
"
Twice
did
the
backwoodsman
give
utterance
to
this
,
his
favourite
expression
of
surprise
;
both
times
with
an
emphasis
that
told
of
an
unlimited
astonishment
.
His
looks
betrayed
it
.
Despite
his
undoubted
courage
,
a
shiver
passed
through
his
colossal
frame
;
while
the
pallor
upon
his
lips
was
perceptible
through
their
brown
priming
of
tobacco
juice
.
For
some
time
he
stood
speechless
,
as
if
unable
to
follow
up
his
double
ejaculation
.
His
tongue
at
length
returned
to
him
.
"
Dog-gone
my
cats
!
"
he
muttered
,
but
in
a
very
low
tone
,
and
with
eyes
still
fixed
upon
the
point
where
the
horse
's
tail
had
been
last
seen
.
"
If
that
ere
do
n't
whip
the
hul
united
creashun
,
my
name
ai
n't
Zeb
'
lon
Stump
!
The
Irish
hev
been
right
arter
all
.
I
tho
'
t
he
hed
dreemt
o
'
it
in
his
drink
.
But
no
.
He
hev
seed
somethin'
;
and
so
hev
I
meself
.
No
wonner
the
cuss
war
skeeart
.
I
feel
jest
a
spell
shaky
in
my
own
narves
beout
this
time
.
Geehosophat
!
what
kin
the
durned
thing
be
?
"
