recently used as a horse blanket; the sound of hoofs, in an interminable
"jog, jog--splash, splash," never hurrying; a series of exasperated
howls from the captain, who was doing his best to make them hurry; the
thunderous roar of rain on the buggy top and the shrieking gale which
rocked the vehicle on its springs and sent showers of fine spray driving
in at every crack and crevice between the curtains.

The view ahead, over the boot, was blackness, bordered by spidery trees
and branches whipping in the wind. Occasionally they passed houses
sitting well back from the road, a lighted window gleaming cozily. And
ever, as they moved, the storm seemed to gather force.

Graves noticed this and, at length, when his nervousness had reached
the breaking point, screamed a question in his companion's ear. They
had attempted no conversation during the ride, the lawyer, whose
contemptuous opinion of the locality and all its inhabitants was now a
conviction, feeling that the result would not be worth the effort, and
the captain busy with his driving.

"It is blowing worse than ever, isn't it?" yelled the nervous Graves.

"Hey? No, just about the same. It's dead sou'-west and we're getting out
of the woods, that's all. Up on those bare hills we catch the full force
of it right off the Sound. Be there pretty soon now, if this Old Hundred
of a horse would quit walkin' in his sleep and really move. Them lights
ahead are South Denboro."

The lights were clustered at the foot of a long and rather steep hill.
Down the declivity bounced and rocked the buggy. The horse's hoofs
sounded hollow on the planks of a bridge. The road narrowed and became