She was off before he had time to answer, leaving him standing by the
roadside, waiting for the promised coach. It was not long before the
rumbling of a heavy vehicle was heard, and but a few minutes more
when an antiquated stage with four scrubby horses emerged from the
shadow of a giant oak into the open moonlight, scarce fifty yards
away. Mr. Henley hailed the driver, who stopped, and looked at him as
if frightened. The man was a Negro, and, when convinced that it was
nothing more terrible than a human being who had accosted him, smiled
generously and invited him to a seat on the box.
"I 'lowed yer was a hant" observed the man, by way of opening the
conversation, when Paul had handed up his bags and taken his place on
top. Henley lighted a cigar, and the cumbersome old vehicle moved
slowly forward.
Their way now lay through a beautiful valley, beside a picturesque
stream, tunneling its course through wild ivy and magnificent banks
of calmia, and under the wide spreading limbs of pines and hemlocks.
The country appeared to be a wilderness, and Paul could not help
feeling that the real world of flesh and ambition lay upon the other
side of the ridge, now far behind. The night was superb, but the road
rough, so that the horses seldom went out of a walk. Presently the
driver drew up his animals for water, and Henley took the opportunity
to question him.
"Do you know these Guirs where I am going?" he inquired.
The man paused in the act of dipping a pail of water, and seemed
puzzled. Thinking he had not understood, Paul repeated the question,
when the man dropped the bucket, and staring at him with a look of
horror, said: "Boss, is you uns in airnest?"
Henley laughed, and told him that he thought he was, adding that Miss
Guir was a friend of his.
"Now I knows you uns is jokin', 'case dey ain't got no friends in dis
'ere country."
"But I am a stranger!" argued Paul.
"Well, sah, it ain't for de likes o' me to argify wid you uns, but ef
you wants to know whar de house is, I kin show it to you; leastways I
kin show you de road to git dar."
"That's it; but tell me, don't the people about here like the Guirs?"
"Boss, ef dey's frens o' yourn, I reckon you knows all about 'em;
maybe more'n I kin tell you, and I reckon it's saiftest for me to
keep my mouf shet tight!"