Having the light away down,
I expected to be able to see at least whether I was on
a road or not. In this I was only partly successful; for
on the rut-trails nothing showed except the blades of
grass and the tops of weeds; while on the grades where
indeed I could make out the ground, I did not need a
light, for, as I found out, I could more confidently rely
on my ear.
I got back to my seat and proceeded to make myself as
comfortable as I could. I took off my shoes and socks
keeping well under the robe--extracted a pair of heavy
woollens from my suitcase under the seat, rubbed my feet
dry and then wrapped up, without putting my shoes on
again, as carefully and scientifically as only a man who
has had pneumonia and is a chronic sufferer from pleuritis
knows how to do.
At last I proceeded. After listening again with great
care for any sound I touched the horses with my whip,
and they fell into a quiet trot. It was nearly seven now,
and I had probably not yet made eight miles. We swung
along. If I was right in my calculations and the horses
kept to the road, I should strike the "twelve-mile bridge"
in about three-quarters of an hour.
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