"Good evenin', sir," said the old man; "it's a dark, wet night—wont you sit down?"
"I want a horse and a man," said Mellen, betraying by the haste in which he spoke, and his impatient movements, that he was too hurried for much attention to the old man's attempt at civility. "I want to go to the other end of the bay—can you let me have a horse and some one to look after my luggage?"
"What, to-night?" demanded the old man. "Why you can't want to go round the bay to-night."
"I should not have come for a horse if I had not wished to get home," said Mellen, impatiently. "Get one out at once, Benson; I am in great haste."
"'Taint a decent night to put a dog out o' doors," returned the fisherman; "it's a good deal mor'n likely you'd get swamped in the marsh, if I let the hoss go."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mellen. "I know this part of the country too well for that. There is no more risk than in this room."
The old man's obstinacy was roused, and he had a full share of that unpleasant quality when he chose to call it into action.
"Mebby you know more about it than I do," he grumbled; "but I've lived here a goin' on thirty years, and ort to be acquainted with this coast, and I say I ain't a going to risk my critters sich a night. If there ain't no danger 'taint fit to send any horse out in a storm like this anyhow."
"I can't stand arguing here," Mellen began, but the old man unceremoniously interrupted him.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.