"Who does?"
"Dutchman."
Howard was silent for some moments. "Who lives on the Dunlap place?"
"'Nother Dutchman."
"Where's Grant living, anyhow?"
"Farther up the Coolly."
"Well, then, I'd better get out here, hadn't I?"
"Oh, I'll drive ye up."
"No, I'd rather walk."
The sun had set, and the Coolly was getting dusk when Howard got out of McTurg's carriage and set off up the winding lane toward his brother's house. He walked slowly to absorb the coolness and fragrance and color of the hour. The katydids sang a rhythmic song of welcome to him. Fireflies were in the grass. A whippoorwill in the deep of the wood was calling weirdly, and an occasional night-hawk, flying high, gave his grating shriek, or hollow boom, suggestive and resounding.