Fiction > Serialisations > New York, 1896-1898 - St. Ives > Volume 9

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
I'^l
private talk with our host, it must be now
or never.
Accordingly I groped my way down-
stairs, and came to him as he looked on
ami lighted the harnessing of the horses.
" The hour approaches when we have to
l^art," said I; "and I shall be obliged if
you will tell your servant to drop me at
the nearest point for Dunstable. I am de-
termined to go so far with our friends.
Colonel X. and Major Y., but my business
is peremptory, and it takes me to the
neighborhood of Dunstable."
(Jrders were given, to my satisfaction,
with an obsecpiiosity that seemed only in-
flamed by his potations.
CHAPTER XIV.
TR.WELS OF THE COVERED CART.
My companions were aroused with diffi-
culty: the colonel, poor old gentleman!
to a sort of permanent dream, in which
you could say of him only that he was
very deaf and an.xiously polite; the major
still maudlin drunk. We had a dish of tea
by the fireside, and then issued like crimi-
nals into the scathing cold of the night.
For the weather had in the meanwhile
changed. Upon the cessation of the rain,
a strict frost had succeeded. The moon,
being young, was already near the zenith
when we started, glittered everywhere on
sheets of ice, and sparkled in ten thousand
icicles. A more unpromising night for a
journey it was hard to conceive. But in
tiie course of the afternoon the horses had
been well sharpened; and King (for such
was the name of the shock-headed lad)
was very positive that he could drive us
without misadventure. He was as good as
his word; indeed, despite a gawky air, he
was simply invaluable in his present em-
ployment, showing marked sagacity in all
that concerned the care of horses, and
guiding us by one short cut after another
for days and without a fault.
The interior of that engine of torture,
the covered cart, was fitted with a bench,
on which we took our places; the door
was shut; in a moment, the night closed
upon us solid and stifling, and we felt that
we were being driven carefully out of the
courtyard. Careful was the word all night,
and it was an alleviation of our miseries
that we did not often enjoy. In general,
as we were driven the better part of the
night and day, often at a pretty quick
pace and alwavs through a labyrinth of the
most infamous country lanes and by-roads,
we were so bruised upon the bench, so
dashed against the top and sides of the
cart, that we reached the end of a stage
in truly pitiable case, sometimes flung our-
selves down without the formality of eat-
ing, made but one sleep of it until the
hour of dei)arture returned, and were only
properly awakened by the first jolt of the
renewed journey. There were interruj)-
tions, at times, that we hailed as allevia-
tions. At times the cart was bogged, once
it was upset, and we must alight and lend
the driver the assistance of our arms; at
times too (as on the occasion when I had
first encountered it) the horses gave out,
and we had to trail alongside in mud or
frost until the first peep of daylight, or the
approach of a hamlet or a high-road bade
us disappear like ghosts into our prison.
The main roads of England are incom-
parable for e.xcellence, of a beautiful
smoothness, very ingeniously laid down,
and so well kept that in most weathers you
could take your dinner off any part of
them without distaste. Then, to the note
of the bugle, the mail did its sixty miles a
day; innumerable chaises whisked after
the bobbing postboys; or some young
blood would flit by in a curricle and tan-
dem to the vast delight and danger of the
lieges. Then the slow-pacing wagons
made a music of bells, and all day long
the travelers on horseback and the travel-
ers on foot (like happy Mr. St. Ives so
little a while before!) kept coming and
going, and baiting and gaping at each
other, as though a fair were due and they
were gathering to it from all England.
No, nowhere in the world is travel so great
a pleasure as in that country. But unhap-
pily our one need was to be secret; and all
this rapid and animated picture of the road
swept quite apart from us, as we lumbered
up hill and down dale, under hedge and
over stone, among circuitous byways.
Only twice did I receive, as it were, a whiff
of the highway. The first reached my
ears alone. I might have been anywhere.
I only knew I was in the dark night and
among ruts, when I heard very far off, over
the silent country that surrounded us, the
guard's horn wailing its signal to the ne.xt
post-house for a change of horses. It
was like the voice of the day heard in the
darkness, a voice of the world heard in
prison, the note of a cock crowing in the
mid-seas; in short, I cannot tell you what
it was like, you will have to fancy for
yourself — but I could have wept to hear it.
Once we were belated: the cattle could