"What! again?" Emerson laughed skeptically. "Better walk on your hands for a while."
"And it's getting dark, too."
"Never mind. It can't be far. Come now."
He urged the fellow as he had repeatedly urged him before, for Fraser seemed to have the blood of a tramp in his veins; then he tried to question the woman, but she maintained a frightened silence. When they had finished their coffee, Emerson laid two silver dollars on the table, and they left the house to search out the river-trail again.
The early darkness, hastened by the storm, was upon them when they crept up the opposite bank an hour later, and through the gloom beheld a group of great shadowy buildings. Approaching the solitary gleam of light shining from the window of the watchman's house, they applied to him for shelter.
"We are just off a long trip, and our dogs are played out," Emerson explained. "We'll pay well for a place to rest."
"You can't stop here," said the fellow, gruffly.
"Why not?"
"I've got no room."
"Is there a road-house near by?"