“Plenty. But, Lor’, marster, dey was one an’ all so ole an’ rusty, an’ flip-floppy, an’ ramshakelly, dat dey couldn’t be trusted on good roads in good wedder by daylight, let alone bad roads in bad wedder by night. An’ wot is true ob de kerridges mought be said ob de hosses, likewise. Dey wouldn’ be sho-futted on sich roads in sich wedder at night. De ox cart is de mos’ safes’ an’ de oxes is de mos’ sho-futtedes’. An’ yo’ wouldn’ like to hab de ladies’ necks broke for de sake ob pomps an’ wanities in kerridges! Would yo’ now?”
Cleve laughed, but Palma put in her word:
“Oh, Cleve, I’m delighted! It is so new! such fun! to ride on the hay in an ox cart! It seems so of a piece with all our strange experiences! Yes! this is some new planet! Not our old familiar earth!”
“How did you happen to be here to meet us? We are a day and a half behind time,” inquired Stuart.
“Ole Marse John Clebe, ob Wolfskif Hall—an’ I am his own man ’Sias, wot nebber would ’mancipate him in de ole ages ob his onnerrubble life fur all de President an’ Con’gess might say—telled me to come yere to meet yer an’ stay for de las’ train till you ’rove, an’ dis is de mos’ secondes’ day as I hab been yere to meet yo’! An’ now, young marse, ef yo’ll listen to me, yo’ll put de ladies in de cart an’ we’ll jog off.”
“All right, ’Sias. Show us the way to the chariot,” laughed Cleve.
The negro set his lantern down in a chair, took from it a bit of candle, which he lighted by a match and replaced, and said:
“Now I shows the way, young marster,” and walked out of the station, followed by Stuart, Palma and Poley.
He led them to the lower end of the platform near which the ox cart stood, with its floor thickly carpeted with layers of hay, and with its yoke of oxen standing and pawing in the cold night air. Their heads were turned away from the town, as if all ready for their jog across the country.
Stuart put Palma upon the cart, and she settled herself in the hay with childish delight.