o' water and a pail iv oats, an' he'll go."

Mike nodded his head as if he were profoundly sure of it. Jim had used
horses in his life, in the old days of lumbering and logging, and was
quite at home with them. He had had many a drive with Mike, and knew the
animal he would be required to handle--a large, hardy, raw-boned
creature, that had endured much in Mike's hands, and was quite equal to
the present emergency.

As soon as Jim had eaten his supper, and Mike's wife had put up for him
food enough to last him and such accessions to his party as he expected
to secure during the night, and supplied him abundantly with wrappings,
he went to the stable, mounted the low, strong wagon before which Mike
had placed the horse, and with a hearty "good luck to ye!" from the
Irishman ringing in his ears, started on the road to Sevenoaks. This
portion of the way was easy. The road was worn somewhat, and moderately
well kept; and there was nothing to interfere with the steady jog which
measured the distance at the rate of six miles an hour. For three steady
hours he went on, the horse no more worried than if he had been standing
in the stable. At nine o'clock the lights in the farmers' cottages by
the wayside were extinguished, and the families they held were in bed.
Then the road began to grow dim, and the sky to become dark. The fickle
spring weather gave promise of rain. Jim shuddered at the thought of the
exposure to which, in a shower, his delicate friend would be subjected,
but thought that if he could but get him to the wagon, and cover him
well before its onset, he could shield him from harm.

The town clock was striking ten as he drove up to the stump where he was
to meet Benedict's boy. He stopped and whistled. A whistle came back in
reply, and a dark little object crept out from behind the stump, and