"You are under no special obligations to the Careys, are you?" asked the general.
"No, I think not," said John with a laugh. "I fancy that their business will go on without me, after a fashion," and he took his leave.
CHAPTER XII.
And so it came about that certain letters were written as mentioned in a previous chapter, and in the evening of a dripping day early in November John Lenox found himself, after a nine hours' journey, the only traveler who alighted upon the platform of the Homeville station, which was near the end of a small lake and about a mile from the village. As he stood with his bag and umbrella, at a loss what to do, he was accosted by a short and stubby individual with very black eyes and hair and a round face, which would have been smooth except that it had not been shaved for a day or two. "Goin' t' the village?" he said.
"Yes," said John, "that is my intention, but I don't see any way of getting there."
"Carry ye over fer ten cents," said the man. "Carryall's right back the deepo. Got 'ny baggidge?"
"Two trunks," said John.
"That'll make it thirty cents," said the native. "Where's your checks? All right; you c'n jest step 'round an' git in. Mine's the only rig that drew over to-night."
It was a long clumsy affair, with windows at each end and a door in the rear, but open at the sides except for enamel cloth curtains, which were buttoned to the supports that carried a railed roof extending as far forward as the dashboard. The driver's seat was on a level with those inside. John took a seat by one of the front windows, which was open but protected by the roof.