At twelve o'clock I was on the way. Steam was too slow for my impatience. I would have harnessed the lightning.
At last—it was sundown of the sixteenth—the stage drove into Newbern.
With my carpet bag in my hand, I rushed into the hotel. Four or five loungers were in the office, and the lazy bartender was mixing drinks behind the counter.
'Sir, I want a horse, or a horse and buggy, at once.'
'A horse? Ye're in a hurry, hain't ye?'
'Yes.'
'Wall, I reckon ye'll hev ter git over it. Thar hain't a durned critter in th' whole place.'
'I'm in no mood for jesting, sir. I want a horse at once. I will deposit twice his value.'
'Ye couldn't git nary critter, stranger, ef ye wus made uv gold. They're all off—off ter Squire Preston's sale.'
'The sale! Has it begun?'