Blind Benner had coughed almost incessantly from the time he went to bed, and at last in desperation rose. Dressing himself he sat down in a chair near the kitchen stove, in which the fire still smouldered. The change of posture gave him relief, and he fell asleep. The tread of the men passing the Block with Gill aroused him. Listening to the heavy, regular footfalls, and not hearing a voice, he feared he was dreaming. Creeping to the door, he opened it. The cold air rushing in started his cough and convinced him that he was awake. Struggling for a moment with the cough, he overcame it, and, impelled by a vague alarm, went down the porch steps. Pausing a moment, he listened again. The footsteps seemed far away. Groping his way to the end of the Block, he went into Big-bug Avenue, where he could hear them more plainly; yet they were going away from him towards the bridge.
His determination was taken at once, and rapidly he followed the crowd. Running recklessly, and keeping as near the middle of the street as he could, he stumbled often and at last fell. He rose quickly, not minding the pain, took one step and stopped, brought to a halt by an obstacle on which he placed his hands.
"It's the horse-block," he exclaimed joyfully, patting it affectionately, as he would a friend.
It was a friend indeed—a guide.
Leaving it, he went ahead slowly, swinging his arms and reaching as far as he could, pausing at every step. Presently the tips of his fingers touched something. Going nearer, he found he was beside a post, which he felt eagerly as if searching for some mark by which to know it. He found two rings hanging one above the other from staples driven into the wood.
Leaning against the post, he listened. A cold breeze blew over him, and he shivered, coughing in spite of the hand that covered his mouth. He hoped to hear some one speak, but nothing reached his ears from the bridge but the trampling of heavy boots on the floor. Again the wind blew, harder this time, and he coughed louder; but if he was heard, no one heeded him. A creaking sound came from above him, but he did not need the rasping screech of the sign on its rusty hinges to inform him that he was in front of the tavern. Listening a moment longer, he patted the post as he had done the horse-block, and stole towards the bridge. Soon from the remark of a man on the outskirts of the crowd he learned what was to be done.
"Heng Gill," he repeated in a whisper, half joyfully, wholly willing that it should be done. Then came the thought,
"But Lizzī would rether they wouldn't."
With eager, impatient search, he tried to find the sign-post to guide him towards the Block, where he had decided to go and tell her what was happening. Reach out as he would, he could not touch the post, and he began running in circles, striking out with his hands like a madman.