a slight paling along each side intended to give some support to its
contents. It was much more lightly made than Saul's ox-cart. The wheels
went over the frozen ruts at a good pace, and the inmates were badly
jolted. Trenholme would rather have walked, but he had already observed
that the Canadian rustic never walked if he could possibly avoid it, and
he supposed there must be some reason for this in the nature of the
country. The jolting made talking disagreeable; indeed, when he
attempted conversation he found his words reminded him forcibly of times
when, in the nursery of his childhood, he had noticed the cries of baby
companions gradually grow less by reason of the rapid vibrations of the
nurse's knee. He kept silence therefore, and wondered whether Turrif or
the pony was guiding, so carelessly did they go forth into the darkness,
turning corners and avoiding ghostly fences with slovenly ease.

It soon appeared that Turrif knew no more than Trenholme where to find
Saul; his only method of seeking was to inquire at each house. It was
not, however, necessary to go into each house; the cart was only brought
sufficiently near upon the road for a lusty shout to reach the family
inside. The first house Trenholme hardly saw in the darkness; at one or
two others he had a good view of the interior through an open door or
window. From each door men and boys, sometimes women and children,
sallied forth eagerly into the cold night to see what was wanted, and to
each inquiry the phlegmatic Turrif repeated Trenholme's tale. Trenholme
would have given a good deal to be able fully to understand what was
said. There was much conversation. From each house one or two men joined
them, and in one case, from a squalid-looking doorway, a loud-speaking
and wilful girl came out and insisted on getting into the cart. She
talked to the men and shrieked loudly when any object, such as a barn or
a tree, loomed dimly at the side of the road. Two of the men brought a
lantern and walked behind. When they came to the house whose roof was