Then I told him who I was and what was my trouble. After a little fumbling I got my hearing device into working order and held up the mouthpiece to his month. At first he thought it was a pistol, but I reassured him, and he told me his story. Like myself, he had come on the late train, expecting to find a town, and a good hotel near the station. And it happened that he was nearly blind; he retained only part of the sight in one eye. He told me that he had heard me walking about in the dark and had called loudly. There we were—a man nearly blind and a deaf man, stranded in this lonely place. If ever two human beings had need of each other, we were the men, yet a moment before both of us were ready to fight when co-operation was the only possible hope for us. This is not unlike the larger struggles that go on in the world.
We agreed to graft the blind man’s ears upon my eyes, and together we made our way slowly along the road. Our hope was to start up some dog at a farmhouse, rouse the family by any means, and plead for lodging. Finally, far down the road I saw a moving light. I judged it to be a lantern in the hand of a farmer going to the barn for a last look at the cattle before retiring. I know that New England habit. So I called and the blind man listened. The light stopped moving at my call, and a big voice roared back:
“What do you want at this time of night?”
I explained as best I could, but it was hard to convince that farmer.
“Too thin! I’ve heard such tales before! Stop where you are till I come back.”
The lantern moved back to the house, and we waited in the road. Soon three lights appeared and moved towards us. That farmer had called up his son and the hired man, and as they moved down the road in our direction I thought of “The Night Watch”—a fine picture I had seen at an exhibition. The farmer carried a shotgun, the boy had an old musket, and the hired man brandished a pitchfork. When we came within range of the lantern, the farmer ordered us to hold up our hands while we explained; the hired man meanwhile advanced with his pitchfork extended as if to throw half a haycock on a wagon. These men could not be blamed for their caution, for, as we later learned, thieves had been busy in the neighborhood. We finally convinced the belligerents that we were harmless. The farmer left us under the guard of the hired man while he went to his barn and harnessed a horse. Then he carried us to the distant town, where we routed out a sleepy landlord and ended our adventure. But the farmer gave us a bit of homely advice.
“If I was a deaf man, or if I had only half an eye, I’d stay at home when night comes.”
“But in that case you would miss a good deal of life—many adventures, and many new friends.”
“Well, maybe that’s so; I hadn’t thought of that.”
He departed shaking his head over the advantages of adventurous blood, but I think he possessed a dash of it himself.