We were apparently nearing a
group of buildings. I heard the heavy thump of galloping
horses, and a second later I saw a light which moved.
I hailed the man; and he came over and answered my
questions. Yes, the wind had turned somewhat; it came
nearly from the east now (so that was what had misled
me); I was only half a mile west of my old trail, but
still, for all that, nearly twelve miles from town. In
this there was good news as well as bad. I remembered
the place now; just south of the twelve-mile bridge I
had often caught sight of it to the west. Instead of
crossing the wild land along its diagonal, I had, deceived
by the changed direction of the wind, skirted its northern
edge, holding close to the line of poplars. I thought of
the fence: yes, the man who answered my questions was
renting from the owner of that pure-bred Angus herd; he
was hauling wood for him and had taken the fence on the
west side down. I had passed between two posts without
noticing them. He showed me the south gate and gave me
the general direction. He even offered my horses water,
which they drank eagerly enough. But he did not offer
bed and stable-room for the night; nor did he open the
gate for me, as I had hoped he would.
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