"Don't you know what you said?" he demanded, a spasm of terror catching him and quickening his heart-beat as a great waggon loomed into sight horribly near them. Despairingly he glanced at the shining metal paraphernalia that encompassed him--his eye fell upon an unmistakable brass horn at his right, terminating in a rubber bulb. This could be but one thing, and cautiously loosening one clammy hand from the wheel, he pressed the bulb nervously. A loud, harsh cry from its brazen throat relieved him inexpressibly and sent a glow of confidence through him. He repeated the pressure, the driver of the cart looked leisurely around, and with a 45 scowl drew off to one side of the road. Antony's blood resumed its normal pace, and as the course was now clear for a moment, anyway, he repeated his question:
"Don't you know what you said?"
The trees, the full brooks, the grazing cattle, unrolled behind them like a painted ribbon for several seconds before she answered. At length his ear caught a faint, short murmur.
"Why not?" he demanded briefly.
"I would rather not tell you," she replied with a return of her old spirit.
"You must tell me," he said angrily. "Here come two carriages--oh, why did I never notice how they stopped these things? Reach under my arms and squeeze that horn--quick!"
The carriages separated and he went, quaking, between them.
"Now, go on--this luck can hardly last," he warned her. "I intend to know for how much of this nightmare I am responsible."