"Now go on, my good and gallant beast," he said, "and I feel sure that your journey is nearly at an end. A draught horse like you, bulky and slow, would not wander any great distance."
The horse himself immediately justified his prediction by raising his head, neighing and advancing at a swifter pace. John saw, standing among some trees, a low and small house, built of stone and evidently very old, its humble nature indicating that it belonged to a peasant. Behind it was a tiny vineyard, and there was a stable and another outhouse.
"Well, Marne, my lad, here's your home, beyond a doubt," said John. But no answer came to the neigh. The house remained silent and dark. It confirmed John's first belief that the horse belonged to some peasant who had fled with his family from the armies. He stroked the animal's neck, and felt real pity for him, as if he had been a child abandoned.
"I know that while I'm a friend I'm almost a stranger to you, but come, we'll examine things," he said.
He sprang off the horse, and drew his automatic. The possession of the pistol gave him an immense amount of courage and confidence, but he did not anticipate any trouble at the house as he was sure that it was abandoned.
He pushed open the door and saw a dark inside. Staring a little he made out a plainly furnished room, from which all the lighter articles had been taken. There was a hearth, but with no fire on it, and John decided that he would sleep in the house. It was in a lonely place, but he would take the risk.
The horse had already gone to the stable and was pushing the door with his nose. John let him in, and found some oat straw which he gave him. Then he left him munching in content, and as he departed he struck him a resounding blow of friendliness on the flank.
"Good old Marne," he said, "you're certainly one of the best friends I've found in Europe. In fact, you're about the only living being I've associated with that doesn't want to kill somebody."
He entered the house and closed the door. In addition to the sitting-room there was a bedroom and a kitchen, all bearing the signs of recent occupancy. He found a small petroleum lamp, but he concluded not to light it. Instead he sat on a wooden bench in the main room beside a small window, ate a little more from the knapsack, and watched a while lest friend or enemy should come.
It had grown somewhat darker and the clouds were driving across the sky. The wind was rising and the threatened flurries of rain came, beating against the cottage. John was devoutly glad that he had found the little house. Having spent many hours immersed to his neck in a river he felt that he had had enough water for one day. Moreover, his escape, his snug shelter and the abundance of food at hand, gave him an extraordinary sense of ease and rest. He noticed that in the darkness and rain one might pass within fifty feet of the cottage without seeing it.