When Mr. Huxter reappeared, John inferred from his appearance that, if he had been drinking water, it had been largely mingled with a different beverage. He satisfied his own thirst at the pump, where he drank a deep and refreshing draught of clear cold water, purer and better than any liquid which the art of man has devised.
So the afternoon passed. Twice more Mr. Huxter got out of the stage, and entered a wayside tavern, on the same mysterious errand. Each time he reappeared with his nose redder, and his eyes more inflamed. The liquor which he had drunk made him quarrelsome, and so disagreeable to his fellow-passengers. Finally one of them called to the driver in an authoritative voice to stop, and insisted that Mr. Huxter should travel outside for the remainder of the way. With some difficulty he was induced to make the change, and from that time John had the pleasure of his society.
"Who are you?" asked Mr. Huxter, fixing his eyes upon John with a vacant stare.
"I am John Oakley," said our hero.
"Oh, yes, I know. You're the son of old Oakley that my sister Jane married."
It was painful to John to hear his father spoken of as old Oakley, but he understood Mr. Huxter's situation, and felt that it would be idle to resent anything said under such circumstances.
"Old Oakley left all his property to Jane," continued Mr. Huxter, with a drunken laugh. "Oh, she's a deep one, is Jane! She knows how her bread is buttered."
John turned away in disgust, and tried not to heed what was said.
"But she's hard on her poor brother," whined Mr. Huxter. "She ought to have come down with something handsome."
His mutterings became incoherent, and John ceased to notice them. At length, about seven o'clock, the stage drove into a small village, of not particularly attractive appearance.