Rousing himself from his reverie with a sigh, Hiram Kelsey urged the oxen along the sandy road, which had here and there a stony interval threatening the slide with dissolution at every jolt. They began presently to quicken their pace of their own accord. The encompassing woods and the laurel were so dense that no gleam of light was visible till they brought up suddenly beside a rail fence, and the fitful glimmer of firelight from an open door close at hand revealed the presence of a double log cabin. There was an uninclosed passage between the two rooms, and in this a tall, gaunt woman was standing.
'Thar be Hi now, with the steers,' she said, detecting the dim bovine shadows in the flickering gleams.
Tell Hiram ter come in right now,' cried a chirping voice, like a superannuated cricket. 'I hev a word ter ax him.'
'Tell Hiram ter feed them thar steers fust,' cried out another ancient voice, keyed several tones lower, and also with the ring of authority.
'Tell Hiram,' shrilly piped the other, 'ter hustle his bones, ef he knows what air good fur 'em.'
'Tell Hiram,' said the deeper voice, sustaining the antiphonal effect, 'I want them thar steers feded foreshortly.'
Then ensued a muttered wrangle within, and finally the shriller voice was again uplifted:
'Tell Hiram what my word air.'
'An' ye tell Hiram what my word air.'
The woman, who was tall as a grenadier, and had a voice like velvet, looked meekly back into the room, upon each mandate, with a nod of mild obedience.