Even though his eyes could not tell the difference between light and
darkness, Dr. Stone knew that day had broken. The air had an early
morning smell. Reaching out, he felt for the clock from which the glass
face had been removed; his sensitive fingers, touching the exposed hands
lightly, recorded the time. Five minutes of six. He sat up in bed.
He had gone to sleep thinking of Allan Robb, and now, awake, the thought
returned. Tomorrow would be Allan's birthday. Twenty-one years old; the
master, in his own right, of a fortune. The doctor chuckled, and wondered
just how much of a master Allan would really be--for a while, anyway. For
Alec Landry was Allan's guardian and had lived at the Robb homestead
these six years since old Jamie Robb's death. A straightforward man, Alec
Landry, who had obeyed old Jamie's dying command to "bring up my boy
right." A loud, hearty man, with a love of having his own way and a habit
of roaring down any who opposed him. Tomorrow, then, Allan Robb would
become master in name; but it would be several years, probably, before
the young man got out from under Alec Landry's hand.
A good thing, Dr. Stone thought dryly. Already there were signs of
attentions that might turn the head of a young man suddenly independent.
Tomorrow there was to be a great party. That was all right--a lad comes
of age only once. Bruce Robb had sent up a blooded mare from New York.
That was all right, too--Bruce was Allan's cousin. But all yesterday
afternoon cars had come in through the village, traveling fast. Cars that
blew imperative horns too obviously. That was the danger to Allen--rich
young friends with time on their hands and nothing to do. Ah, well; leave
that to Alec Landry. He was a stout man when it came to calling halt.
Dr. Stone swung his legs to the floor. Lady arose from where she had
slept, stretched her great muscles, and came toward him.
"Lady," the doctor said, "suppose we take to the road. There aren't many
good days left. Once winter comes you and I will be more or less chained
to the house."
The deep eyes of the dog clung to his face. Presently, his hand holding
the hard handle-grip of Lady's harness, he listened at Joe Morrow's
bedroom door. His nephew was still asleep. Out on the dirt road Dr. Stone
said, "Lady, away," and they turned north to where Indian summer lingered
late in the hills and the valleys were a brown haze. By and by there was
wood smoke in the man's nostrils, and the distant babble of many alien
tongues. And, while he wondered about this a woman's voice, old and weak,
quavered at him from the roadside.
"Your fortune, kind master, if it's safe near the beast and you blind.
Cross my palm with silver, and----"
Gypsies! The doctor laughed and shook his gray, lion head. His left hand
held to the harness; his right hand swung a light cane. Abruptly the cane
lost contact with a field fence and touched nothing. The man said, "Lady,
right," and passed through a pasture gate onto Allan Robb's land as
unerringly as though he could see the gate itself. And the thought that
lay in his mind had to do with the gypsy encampment and how long it would
be before Alec Landry discovered the trespass and roared the intruders
off.
And now, suddenly, the stillness that seemed part of the smoky haze was
broken, and the morning was filled with the far-off echoes of a sledge or
a pick swung against rock and dirt. The sound, the doctor decided, came
from the deep ravine that divided the Robb estate. But when man and dog
came to the wooden bridge that spanned the ravine, there was no sound
save the gurgle of water running among the sharp rocks far below.
"Hello, down there!" Dr. Stone called.
Silence! Lady stood rigid and a low growl rumbled in her throat. The man,
sharpened by an intangible something, touched the alert ears, and the dog
was quiet. A wind sighed through the bare branches of the trees, and all
at once there was dust and grit in his face. The grit burned like fire.
He put up a quick hand and rubbed hot, harsh particles between his
fingers. For a time he stood there motionless, startled; and then,
slowly, he moved off the bridge with the dog.
An hour later he was back on the dirt road. Horses' hoofs raced and
pounded, and voices shouted and halloed. Lady pulled him out of the way,
toward the safety of a hedge, and the young people who had come for
Allan's party thundered past. One pair of hoofs pranced, and one of the
riders rode back.
"The new mare, Allan?" Dr. Stone asked.
"No, sir. Skipper thinks it's more in keeping not to ride her until
tomorrow." Skipper had always been Allan Robb's name for his guardian.
"Did you run into the gypsies?"