|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 16
Save a dignified silence, there was no answer to this, until
there came a rolling of loose stones and the sound of a heavy
body suddenly precipitated down the bank, and landing with a
thump in the road.
"He didn't get the water," said the owner sadly.
"Are you hurt, Fred?" asked the girl.
The chauffeur limped in front of the lamps, appearing
suddenly, like an actor stepping into the limelight.
"No, ma'am," he said. In the rays of the lamp, he unfolded a
road map and scowled at it. He shook his head aggrievedly.
"There OUGHT to be a house just about here," he explained.
"There OUGHT to be a hotel and a garage, and a cold supper,
just about here," said the girl cheerfully.
"That's the way with those houses," complained the owner.
"They never stay where they're put. At night they go around
and visit each other. Where do you think you are, Fred?"
"I think we're in that long woods, between Loon Lake and
Stoughton on the Boston Pike," said the chauffeur, "and," he
reiterated, "there OUGHT to be a house somewhere about
here--where we get water."
"Well, get there, then, and get the water," commanded the
owner.
"But I can't get there, sir, till I get the water," returned
the chauffeur.
He shook out two collapsible buckets, and started down the
shaft of light.
"I won't be more nor five minutes," he called.
"I'm going with him," said the girl, "I'm cold."
She stepped down from the front seat, and the owner with
sudden alacrity vaulted the door and started after her.
"You coming?" he inquired of Ernest Peabody. But Ernest
Peabody being soundly asleep made no reply. Winthrop turned
to Sam. "Are YOU coming?" he repeated.
The tone of the invitation seemed to suggest that a refusal
would not necessarily lead to a quarrel.
"I am NOT!" said the brother. "You've kept Peabody and me
twelve hours in the open air, and it's past two, and we're
going to sleep. You can take it from me that we are going to
spend the rest of this night here in this road."
He moved his cramped joints cautiously, and stretched his legs
the full width of the car.
"If you can't get plain water," he called, "get club soda."
He buried his nose in the collar of his fur coat, and the
odors of camphor and raccoon skins instantly assailed him, but
he only yawned luxuriously and disappeared into the coat as a
turtle draws into its shell. From the woods about him the
smell of the pine needles pressed upon him like a drug, and
before the footsteps of his companions were lost in the
silence he was asleep. But his sleep was only a review of his
waking hours. Still on either hand rose flying dust clouds
and twirling leaves; still on either side raced gray stone
walls, telegraph poles, hills rich in autumn colors; and
before him a long white road, unending, interminable,
stretching out finally into a darkness lit by flashing
shop-windows, like open fireplaces, by street lamps, by
swinging electric globes, by the blinding searchlights of
hundreds of darting trolley cars with terrifying gongs, and
then a cold white mist, and again on every side, darkness,
except where the four great lamps blazed a path through
stretches of ghostly woods.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|