I cannot determine, I felt myself approaching the end, and hastening
to the top of the ascent up which I was then laboring, looked down
into the shallow valley spread out before me.

What a sight met my eyes if I had been intent on anything less
practical than the movements of the solitary horseman below! Hills on
hills piled about a verdant basin in whose depths nestled a scanty
collection of houses, in number so small they could be told upon the
fingers of the right hand, but which notwithstanding lent an
indescribable aspect of comfort to this remote region of hill and
forest.

But the vision of Mr. Blake pausing half way down the slope before me,
examining, yes examining a pistol which he held in his hand, soon put
an end to all ideas of romance. Somewhat alarmed I reined back; but
his action had evidently no connection with me, for he did not once
glance behind him, but kept his eye on the road which I now observed
took a short turn towards a house of so weird and ominous an
appearance that I scarcely marvelled at his precaution.

Situated on a level track of land at the crossing of three roads, its
spacious front, rude and unpainted as it was, presented every
appearance of an inn, but from its moss-grown chimneys no smoke
arose, nor could I detect any sign of life in its shutterless windows
and closed doors, across which shivered the dark shadow of the one
gaunt and aged pine, that stood like a guard beside its tumbled-down
porch.

Mr. Blake seemed to have been struck by the same fact concerning its
loneliness, for hurriedly replacing his pistol in his breast pocket,