a village street, bordered and arched by tall trees which groaned and
threshed in the hurricane. The rain, as it beat in over the boot, had,
so the lawyer fancied, a salty taste.

The captain bent down. "Say, Mister," he shouted, "where was it you
wanted to stop? Who is it you're lookin' for?"

"What?"

"I say--Heavens to Betsy! how that wind does screech!--I say where'bouts
shall I land you. This is South Denboro. Whose house do you want to go
to?"

"I'm looking for one of your leading citizens. Elisha Warren is his
name."

"What?"

"Elisha Warren. I--"

He was interrupted. There was a sharp crack overhead, followed by a
tremendous rattle and crash. Then down upon the buggy descended what,
to Graves, appeared to be an avalanche of scratching, tearing twigs
and branches. They ripped away the boot and laprobe and jammed him back
against the seat, their sharp points against his breast. The buggy was
jerked forward a few feet and stopped short.

He heard the clatter of hoofs and shouts of "Whoa!" and "Stand
still!" He tried to rise, but the tangle of twigs before him seemed
impenetrable, so he gave it up and remained where he was. Then, after an