“It’s a buggy coming down,” said Abe.
“Where is it going to?”
“Don’t know. Across the ford, I s’pose.”
“Why, man, the ford will be six feet deep to-night, and running like a mill-stream.”
The light was nearer now, coming rapidly round the curve of the road. There was a wild sound of galloping with the rattle of the wheels.
“Horses have bolted, by thunder!”
“Bad job for the man inside.”
There was a rough individuality about the inhabitants of Harvey’s Sluice, in virtue of which every man bore his misfortunes upon his own shoulders, and had very little sympathy for those of his neighbors. The predominant feeling of the two men was one of pure curiosity as they watched the swinging, swaying lanterns coming down the winding road.
“If he don’t pull ’em up before they reach the ford he’s a goner,” remarked Abe Durton resignedly.
Suddenly there came a lull in the sullen splash of the rain. It was but for a moment, but in that moment there came down on the breeze a long cry which caused the two men to start and stare at each other, and then to rush frantically down the steep incline toward the road below.