“Will you do it.”
“We can try.”
And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o’clock was striking as they entered Servas.
“A crown of six livres if you’ll drive me half-way to Sue without stopping here to change horses!” cried the young man through the window to the postilion.
“Done!” replied the latter.
And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping.
Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his head out of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of a screech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered from a neighboring woods.
“Here we are,” cried Morgan.
The postilion pulled up, saying: “If we’re there, we needn’t go further.”
The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and stepped up to the postilion.