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All this while he had been sauntering along at the idlest pace, with a score of pauses. Suddenly he bethought him that it must be time to return, and was about to do so when his eye was caught by a little shop on the other side of the road. He could not read the inscription above it; but the window was crowded with bulbs and roots of all kinds and bags of seed in small stacks.
For Bru, it appeared, knew spells which would blight the corn, give the sheep foot rot, the cattle the rinder pest, make cows die in calving, and set fire to the ricks and stacks.
From the forest of tall stacks the smoke went up in slow, twisting columns to stain the clean blue sky with a heavy cloud of dirty brown. The deep-toned whistle of the Mill had barely called the workmen from their dinner pails and baskets when two children came along the road that for some distance follows close to the base of that high wall of cliffs.
Casey, I may as well confess, had been calling for stacks of blues and reds and whites rather often since midnight. At four in the afternoon Casey hobbled into the restaurant and ate another steak and drank three cups of black coffee.
He returned with stacks of them, Berliner Tageblatt, Kélnische Zeitung, Vorwérts; the alleged comic papers, Kladderadatsch, Lustige Blétter and Simplicissimus; the illustrated press, Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung, Der Weltkrieg im Bild, and the rest: that remarkable café even took in such less popular publications as Harden's Zukunft and semi-blackmailing rags like Der Roland von Berlin.
I purposed to-morrow to climb to the roof, and thence survey the plains of Lombardy and the chain of the Alps; so, turning away from the door, I made the tour of the square in which the Cathedral stands. I came first upon a row of cannon, so pointed as to sweep the square. Behind the guns, piled on the pavement, were stacks of arms, and soldiers loitering beside them.
They had not met since the day of her husband's funeral. "I see you're busy," he said, as he came forward. "Yes," she assented. "Such stacks of papers that must be examined before they can be destroyed. It's dreary work, and I have been very thankful to have Gwen with me. She has just gone out riding." "I met her," Carey said. "She was with young Rivers." "It is a farewell ride," Naomi told him.
They were standing around the faro table; the two roulette wheels were going, and the Klondike machine spun ceaselessly. There were a dozen stacks of chips in front of Bolles. He was smiling, flushed with triumph and whisky. "Three hundred to the good, old boy!" he said to the man who spun the ivory ball. "I'll break you fellows to-night." "Bring Mr. Bolles another whisky," said the proprietor.
With those socks on, it seemed just as though he was walking the streets of the New Jerusalem, with heaven and stacks of silver-fringed and golden-tinged clouds beneath his feet, buried up to the eyes in floods of liquid moonshine.
Along the eastern horizon's rim loomed the blue sea beyond the sandy dunes of old Plum Island; the lazy river born in babbling brooks and bubbling springs flowing languidly mid wooded islands, and picturesque stacks of salt hay, representing the arduous toil of farmers and dry-as-dust fodder for reluctant cows.
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