night had heated and stimulated into a quicker current, or was merely
impelled by some strong motive to reach his journey's end, on he swept
more like a hunted phantom than a man, nor checked his pace until,
arriving at some cross roads, one of which led by a longer route to
the place whence he had lately started, he bore down so suddenly upon a
vehicle which was coming towards him, that in the effort to avoid it he
well-nigh pulled his horse upon his haunches, and narrowly escaped being
thrown.

'Yoho!' cried the voice of a man. 'What's that? Who goes there?'

'A friend!' replied the traveller.

'A friend!' repeated the voice. 'Who calls himself a friend and rides
like that, abusing Heaven's gifts in the shape of horseflesh, and
endangering, not only his own neck (which might be no great matter) but
the necks of other people?'

'You have a lantern there, I see,' said the traveller dismounting, 'lend
it me for a moment. You have wounded my horse, I think, with your shaft
or wheel.'

'Wounded him!' cried the other, 'if I haven't killed him, it's no fault
of yours. What do you mean by galloping along the king's highway like
that, eh?'

'Give me the light,' returned the traveller, snatching it from his hand,
'and don't ask idle questions of a man who is in no mood for talking.'

'If you had said you were in no mood for talking before, I should