They rode along the edge of the fortress moat and past the officer’s quarters, and so around the entire fortress and across the reservation into the country. The old man sat very stiff and upright in his seat, flourished his whip over his old horse in a grand manner, and altogether made as brave an appearance as possible.
The knock-kneed horse dragged its feet over the highway with a shuffle that made Ruth nervous. She liked a good horse. This one moved so slowly, and the turnout was altogether so ridiculous, that Ruth did not know whether to join Helen in laughing at it, or get out and walk back.
Suddenly, however, a drizzle of rain began to fall. It was not unexpected, for the clouds were still black and a chill breeze had blown up.
“We’ll have to go back, Uncle,” cried Helen to the driver.
“Wait a minute—wait a minute,” urged the old man. “Ah’ll git right down an’ fix dat hood. Dat’ll shelter yo’ till we gits back t’ de hotel—ya-as’m.”
“You should not have encouraged us to come out with you when it was sure to rain,” said Ruth, rather tartly for her.
“Sho’ ‘nuff, missy—sho’ ‘nuff,” cackled the old darkey. “But ’twas a great temptation.”
“What was a great temptation?”
“To earn a dollar. Dollars come skeerce like nowadays, for Unc’ Simmy. He kyan’t keep up wid dese yere taxum-cabs an’ de rich folks’ smart conveyances—no’m!” and the old negro chuckled as though poverty, too, were a humorous thing.
He began to fuss with the hood of the carriage, which was supposed to pull up and shelter the occupants. But it would not “stay put,” as Helen laughingly said, and the summer shower began to patter harder on the unprotected girls.