"Down by the River?" inquired Barnabas.
"Yessir. And now, shall I horder the post-boy to stop?"
"What for?"
"Well, the stables is near by, sir, and I thought as you might like to take a glimp at the 'osses,—just to make your mind easy, sir."
"Oh, very well!" said Barnabas, for there was something in the boy's small, eager face that he could not resist.
Therefore, having paid and dismissed the chaise, they turned into a certain narrow by-street. It was very dark as yet, although in the east was a faint, gray streak, and the air struck so chill, after the warmth of the chaise, that Barnabas shivered violently, and, happening to glance down, he saw that the boy was shivering also. On they went, side by side, between houses of gloom and silence, and thus, in a while, came to another narrow street, or rather, blind alley, at the foot of which were the stables.
"Hush, sir!" said the Imp, staring away to where the stable buildings loomed up before them, shadowy and indistinct in the dawn. "Hush, sir!" he repeated, and Barnabas saw that he was creeping forward on tip-toe, and, though scarce knowing why, he himself did the same.
They found the great swing doors fast, bolted from within, and, in this still dead hour, save for their own soft breathing, not a sound reached them. Then Barnabas laughed suddenly, and clapped Master Milo upon his small, rigid shoulder.
"There, Imp,—you see it's all right!" said he, and then paused, and held his breath.
"Did ye hear anythink?" whispered the boy.