That they had started for Judge Gould's he did not doubt for a moment. “I shall seek the nearest lawyer,” Bennie D. had said. And the judge was the nearest. They must be going there, or why should they take that road? Neither did he doubt now that their object was to secure the divorce. How divorces were secured, or how long it took to get one, Seth did not know. His sole knowledge on that subject was derived from the newspapers and comic weeklies, and he remembered reading of places in the West where lawyers with the necessary blanks in their pockets met applicants at the arrival of one train and sent them away, rejoicing and free, on the next.
“You jump right off the cars and then
Turn round and jump right on again.”
This fragment of a song, sung at a “moving-picture” show in the town hall, and resung many times thereafter by Ezra Payne, John Brown's predecessor as assistant keeper at the lights, recurred to him as he urged the weary Joshua onward. So far as Seth knew, the Reno custom might be universal. At any rate, he must get to Judge Gould's before Emeline and her brother-in-law left there. What he should do when he arrived and found them there was immaterial; he must get there, that was all.
Eastboro Back Harbor was left behind, and the long stretch of woods beyond was entered. Joshua, his hoofs swollen by the sticky clay to yellow cannon balls, plodded on, but, in spite of commands and pleadings—the lightkeeper possessed no whip and would not have used one if he had—he went slower and slower. He was walking now, and limping sadly on the foot where the loose shoe hung by its bent and broken nails.
Five miles, six, seven, and the limp was worse than ever. Seth, whose conscience smote him, got out of the carriage into the rain and mud and attempted repairs, using a stone as a hammer. This seemed to help matters some, but it was almost dark when the granite block marking the township line was passed, and the windows in the houses were alight when he pulled up at the judge's door.
The judge himself answered the knock, or series of knocks. He seemed much surprised to find the keeper of Eastboro Twin-Lights standing on his front step.
“Why, hello, Atkins!” he cried. “What in the world are you doing over here? a night like this!”
“Has—has Mrs. Bascom been here? Is she here now?” panted Seth anxiously.
“Mrs. Bascom? Who is Mrs. Bascom?”
“She—she's a friend of mine. She and—and a relation of hers was comin' over here to see you on business. Ain't they here? Ain't they been here?”