"Can't you make out that
funny little window at the end there?"
I looked more closely at the building. In the dim light of the stars,
the coat of whitewash that covered it made it possible to trace the
outlines of a window in the gable that fronted the road. Some freak of
the builder had turned it a quarter of the way around, giving it a
comical suggestion of a man with a droop to his eye.
"And the iron cow?" I asked.
"Stupid! a pump, of course," replied Mrs. Knapp with another laugh.
"Now see if there is a lane here by the barn."
A narrow roadway, just wide enough for a single wagon, joined the main
road at the corner of the building.
"Then drive up it quietly," was Mrs. Knapp's direction.
Just beyond the barn I made out the figure of the pump in a conspicuous
place by the roadside, and felt more confident that we were on the
right road.
The lane was now wrapped in Egyptian darkness. Trees lined both sides
of the narrow way. Their branches brushed our faces as we passed, and
their tops seemed to meet above us till even the faint light of the
stars scarcely glimmered through. The hoofs of the horses splashed in
the mud, and the rather clumsy carriage dragged heavily and slowly
forward.
"I'd give five dollars to light my lamps," growled the driver. We were
traveling by the instinct of the horses.
"If your life is worth more than five dollars, you'd better keep them
dark," I said.
The driver swore in an undertone as the hack lurched and groaned in a
boggy series of ruts, and a branch whipped him in the face.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314