"I think I never before saw such a flash as that," remarked Ashley.
The horse in the cellar protested that he never had. Then he fairly yelped at a comparatively mild suffusion followed by a dull roar of thunder, evidently anticipating a renewal of the pyrotechnic horrors that had so terrified him.
Judge Roscoe maintained an imperturbable aspect, despite a certain mortification and a sense of derogation of dignity. He recognized this as a scheme of old Ephraim's. More than once he had so contrived the disappearance of the last milch cow that his master possessed as to save her from the foraging parties bent on beef. Chickens had experiences of invisibility that were not fatal, and though the carriage pair and the judge's saddle-horse had been the victims of surprise,—impressed long ago,—the old servant had again and again rescued a beautiful animal that Mrs. Gwynn owned and which had been a second gift from Judge Roscoe. Hearing betimes of the press orders from the soldiers, the "double-faced Janus" had besought Judge Roscoe to leave the concealment of Acrobat to him; and, although only a passive factor in the enterprise, Judge Roscoe, as much surprised at the denouement as any one else, was forced to bear the brunt of the lamentable fiasco in which the secret had become public.
Baynell, though silent, looked extremely annoyed.
"This rainfall will raise the river considerably," Ashley commented.
"Shouldn't be surprised if the lower portions of the town are flooded already," said Judge Roscoe, throwing out a pair of matched cards.
"Those precincts are very ill situated," said Ashley.
The Houyhnhnm in the cellar protested that he was, too.
"High water must occasion considerable suffering among the poorer class," rejoined the judge.
"But the locality could have been easily avoided in laying out Roanoke City. Draw, Captain—" Ashley broke off suddenly, being forced to remind the preoccupied Baynell of his turn to supply his hand.