"I'll go there and hide myself," he said. "When they
come along, suspecting nothing, I'll cut out on horseback and get here a
half hour before them. You make every one in the house hide and keep still
when they drive into the yard. We'll put out all the lights. We'll give
that pair the surprise of their lives."
Jim had concealed a quart bottle of wine in his pocket and, as he rode away
on his mission, stopped from time to time to take a hearty drink. As his
horse trotted along lanes and through fields, the horse that was bringing
Clara and Hugh home from their adventure cocked his ears and remembered
the comfortable stall filled with hay in the Butterworth barn. The horse
trotted swiftly along and Hugh in the buggy beside Clara was lost in the
same dense silence that all the evening had lain over him like a cloak. In
a dim way he was resentful and felt that time was running too fast. The
hours and the passing events were like the waters of a river in flood time,
and he was like a man in a boat without oars, being carried helplessly
forward. Occasionally he thought courage had come to him and he half turned
toward Clara and opened his mouth, hoping words would come to his lips, but
the silence that had taken hold of him was like a disease whose grip on
its victim could not be broken. He closed his mouth and wet his lips with
his tongue. Clara saw him do the thing several times.
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