“Thank you. Then I’ll take advantage of your offer. Shall I——?” he made a move as though to lead the horse up to the farmhouse.
“I’ll attend to that,” spoke Joe. “Just get in my carriage, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
The stranger obeyed, and Joe, unhitching the horse from the broken carriage, quickly led the steed to the stable, stopping on his way to explain to Mrs. Murchison, whom he knew slightly, the circumstances. She readily agreed to let the animal stay in their stall. Then Joe pulled the tilted carriage to one side of the road, and a few minutes later was sending his steed ahead at a pace not hitherto attained that day.
“Think we can make that train?” asked the man, who seemed immersed in his own thoughts.
“I’m going to make a big try,” answered Joe.
“Do you live around here?” came the next question.
“At Riverside—about eight miles away.”
The man lapsed into silence, and as Joe was rather diffident with strangers he did not press the conversation. They drove on for several miles, and suddenly the silence of the country was broken by a distant whistle.
“Is that the train?” exclaimed the man nervously, looking at his watch.
“Yes, but it’s about three miles away. You can always hear it plainly here. We’ll be in Preston in a few minutes now, and I’ll have you at the station in time.”