"Never hed no sech joemightyful time es thet afore," said D'ri, as
he sat down, laughing, and shook his head. "Jerushy Jane! Did n't
we come down thet air hill! Luk slidin' on a greased pole."

"Comin' so luk the devil they did n't dast git 'n er way," said
Thurst.

"We wus all rippin' th' air 'ith them air joemightyful big sabres,
tew," D'ri went on. "Hed a purty middlin' sharp edge on us. Stuck
out luk a haystack right 'n' left."

He began bringing wood as he sang the chorus of his favorite
ballad:--

Li toorul I oorul I oorul I ay, etc.

Thurst knew a trail that crossed the river near by and met the
Caraway Pike a few miles beyond. Having eaten, I wrote a despatch
to be taken back by Thurst as soon as we reached the pike. Past
ten o'clock we turned into a rough road, where the three of us went
one way and Thurst another.

I rode slowly, for the horses were nearly fagged. I gave them an
hour's rest when we put up for dinner. Then we pushed on, coming
in sight of the Chateau Le Ray at sundown. A splendid place it
was, the castle of gray stone fronting a fair stretch of wooded
lawn, cut by a brook that went splashing over rocks near by, and
sent its velvet voice through wood and field. A road of fine
gravel led through groves of beech and oak and pine to a grassy