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Updated: May 12, 2025
There was a momentary stir of voices within the closed coach, but an angry roar of "Silence!" from the darkness hushed it. The moments crept slowly by; all now were breathless. Then a clear whistle rang from the distance, the light suddenly was extinguished, the leveled muzzles vanished with it, the driver's lash fell simultaneously on the backs of his horses, and the coach leaped forward.
"Well, as dis yer Jeff dat's de lumber-wagon driver's name as dis yer Jeff come up ter dese yer two gentlemen, one of 'em was sayin, 'I'll bet five dollahs dey ain' narry a man in his town would stay in dat ha'nted house all night. Dis yer Jeff, he up 'n sez, sezee, 'Scuse me, suh, but ef you'll 'low me ter speak, suh, I knows a man wat'll stay in dat ole ha'nted house all night."
Most travellers read too much. "There are learned institutions in St. Petersburg: universities, libraries, picture-galleries, and museums; but the first institution with which I became acquainted was the drosky. The drosky is a very, very small phaeton. It has the driver's seat in front, and a very narrow seat behind him.
So great was the rush to see the illustrious guest that one man was crowded overboard, an incident which Miss Lind herself witnessed, and at which she was much alarmed. He was rescued with no other harm than a thorough wetting. Barnum's carriage was in waiting for Miss Lind, and the great showman himself, after placing her within it, mounted the box at the driver's side.
"Pile out there.... Quick!" rasped a voice from the driver's seat.
There were evenings when the Howe car was filled, not with Christine and her friends, but with women of a different world; evenings when the destination was not a country estate, but a road-house; evenings when Johnny Rosenfeld, ousted from the driver's seat by some drunken youth, would hold tight to the swinging car and say such fragments of prayers as he could remember.
The next day the animal saw some cocoanuts exposed in the street for sale, and taking one of them up in his trunk, beat it about the driver's head until he fractured his skull. Mr. Colton, the author of that admirable book called "Lacon," tells a similar anecdote of an elephant in Madras.
Two miles out the sheriff, in a borrowed car, grimly seated at the driver's side, came bearing down upon them. The cars were halted long enough for the sheriff to take his place with Searle, and then they hastened on. Christler had instantly seen that Van was wounded. He as quickly realized that to rush Van to town and medical attendance was the only possible plan. He merely said, "You're hurt."
The insistent and intolerant horn of an automobile, followed now by the scream of the gears, broke the stillness of the country-side, and a familiar voice cried out "Do you want the whole road?" Austen turned into the Hammonds' drive as the bulldog nose of a motor forged ahead, and Mr. Crewe swung in the driver's seat. "Hello, Victoria," he shouted, "you people ought to have ear-trumpets."
Now I understand what the loafers at the station meant, and the driver's unfriendliness, and those unclean women; and to think they framed it all out of that innocent coat. You know, father, Mr. Wayland had carried Fordie down from the Rim Rocks. We carried the body in together." "Where is Wayland?" asked MacDonald; and she poured out the full story of all that had happened.
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