"Ho-la! Ho!" came the answer from somewhere across the water. Cale
turned and looked over his shoulder.
"Thet 's the ferry. We ferry over a piece here; it's the back water of
a crick thet makes in from the river 'long here, fer 'bout two mile."
He turned into a narrow lane, dark under the trees, and drove to the
water's edge.
By the flare of the lantern I could see a broad raft, rigged with a
windlass, slowly moving towards us over the darkening waters. Another
lantern of steady gleam lighted the face of the ferryman. It took but
a few minutes to reach the bank; the horses went on to the boards with
many a snort and much stamping of impatient hoofs. Pete took his place
at their heads.
"_Marche!_"
We moved slowly away towards the other bank. There was no moon; the
night air was crisp with coming frost; an owl hooted somewhere in the
woods.
We were soon on the road again, as ever beneath trees. It seemed to me
as if we were turning to the river again. I asked Cale about it.
"You 've hit it 'bout right, in the dark too. We foller back a quarter
of a mile, an' then we 're there."
That quarter of a mile seemed long to me.
"Here we are," said Cale, at last.
I looked out. I could see the long low outlines of a house showing
dimly white through the trees, for there were trees everywhere. A
flaring light, as from a wood fire, illumined one window.
We drew up at a broad flight of low steps. A door into a lighted
passageway was opened. I saw there were at least four people in it;
one, a woman in a white cap, came out on the upper step.
"Have you brought Miss Farrell, Cale?" she said.
"Yes, Mis' Macleod, fetched her right along; but the boat was good
three hours late.--Pete, open the door; I 'll hold the hosses."
I went up the steps, not knowing what to say, for the mere inflection
of her voice, the gentle address, the prefix "Miss" to my name, told me
intuitively that I was with gentle people, and my service with them was
to be other than I fancied.