Just then he saw the
goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his
head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile,
but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash;
he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black
steed, and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.
The next morning the old horse was found, without his saddle and
with he bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his
master's gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at breakfast;
dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the
school-house and strolled idly about the banks of the brook but
no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some
uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod and his saddle. An
inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation they
came upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the
church was found the saddle trampled in the dirt; the tracks of
horses' hoofs, deeply dented in the road and evidently at furious
speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of a
broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was
found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a
spattered pumpkin.
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