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Updated: June 1, 2025
Here we anchored, and the captain and I went up into the city and found that the Wanderers had come into Nen. And the Wanderers were a weird, dark, tribe, that once in every seven years came down from the peaks of Mloon, having crossed by a pass that is known to them from some fantastic land that lies beyond.
Without grace they shut the bridge for us, the gate opened of itself, and in a great clamorous flood, like an army released from a siege, we poured over, all of us, rejoicing into Wringland; for so is called this flat, reclaimed land, which stands isolated between the Nen and the Ouse.
He led the way through the dismal thickets, telling his story as he went. "She was mighty purty, too," he said. "The feller waved his hat when he seen her, an' she waved back. He run down an' jumped in the boat, an' 'nen 'nen " "Then what?" exploded Anderson Crow. "He kissed her!" "The d murderer!" roared Crow. "He grabbed up the oars and rowed 'cross an' downstream.
Bitterly all the dogs of Nen distrusted them. And the Wanderers told one another fearful tales, for though no one in Nen knew ought of their language yet they could see the fear on the listeners' faces, and as the tale wound on the whites of their eyes showed vividly in terror as the eyes of some little beast whom the hawk has seized.
Up high tree was Chan Tow dissa highrob was vay bad man! Chan Tow up tree to watch to stea' whatta he can, semma lika vutture." "Like a vulture." "Like a vutture big bird eat dead beas' ole he can. "Chan Tow look down on load, and shee horse-carry-chair wif Missa Jan feet stick out. Nen dissa highrob say hisse'f: 'Vay nice feet; lich man. I go fonnow him.
I'd ketch her stealin' sly glances at me an' she allus found me with a grin on my face a good, healthy grin, too. "There wasn't anything to laugh at, mind you, but she didn't know that. She got to fixin' her back hair and lookin' worried about her clothes. 'Nen she'd wipe her face to see if the powder was on straight, all the time wonderin' what in thunder I was laughin' at.
From Oundle I walked the next day to Stamford, a good, solid, old English town, sitting on the corners of three counties, and on three layers of history, Saxon, Dane and Norman. The first object of interest was a stone bridge over the Nen at Oundle. It is a grand structure to span such a little river.
The others gathered nearer, hitching forward rocking-chairs, rising to peer over shoulders breathlessly, with a manner of fearing to touch her. But because of the little uplifted face, waiting, Grandma Holly must needs untie the white hood and reveal all the shining of the child's hair. "Nen do my toat off," Viola gravely directed.
I walk ressa way leave you to res'. Goo'-by! Nen run fas' he can down dissa heel. "Missiolary man stay look him run, an' kep' fink ole tem. Nen say hisse'f: 'I fink dissa man inshinsherity. I lose ole dissa tem wif him! Whatta tem it is? Nen he search his watch. 'Oh, my! No watch; no convict! Dissa vay bad day!" The Chinese grins with the greatest pleasure.
None of their instruments were such as were known in Nen nor in any part of the region of the Yann; even the horns out of which some were made were of beasts that none had seen along the river, for they were barbed at the tips. And they sang, in the language of none, songs that seemed to be akin to the mysteries of night and to the unreasoned fear that haunts dark places.
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