Audrey

The miles to Williamsburgh were long and sunny, with the dust thick

beneath the feet. Warm and heavy, the scented spring possessed the land.

It was a day for drowsing in the shade: for them who must needs walk in

the sunshine, languor of thought overtook them, and sparsity of speech.

They walked rapidly, step with step, their two lean and sinewy bodies

casting the same length of shadow; but they kept their eyes upon the long

glare of white dust, and told not their dreams. At a point in the road

where the storekeeper saw only confused marks and a powdering of dust

upon the roadside bushes, the half-breed announced that there had been

that morning a scuffle in a gang of negroes; that a small man had been

thrown heavily to the earth, and a large man had made off across a low

ditch into the woods; that the overseer had parted the combatants, and

that some one's back had bled. No sooner was this piece of clairvoyance

aired than he was vexed that he had shown a hall-mark of the savage, and

hastily explained that life in the woods, such as a trader must live,

would teach any man--an Englishman, now, as well as a Frenchman--how to

read what was written on the earth. Farther on, when they came to a

miniature glen between the semblance of two hills, down which, in mockery

of a torrent, brabbled a slim brown stream, MacLean stood still, gazed for

a minute, then, whistling, caught up with his companion, and spoke at

length upon the subject of the skins awaiting them at Williamsburgh.

The road had other travelers than themselves. At intervals a cloud of dust

would meet or overtake them, and out of the windows of coach or chariot or

lighter chaise faces would glance at them. In the thick dust wheels and

horses' hoofs made no noise, the black coachmen sat still upon the boxes,

the faces were languid with the springtime. A moment and all were gone.

Oftener there passed a horseman. If he were riding the planter's pace, he

went by like a whirlwind, troubling only to curse them out of his path; if

he had more leisure, he threw them a good-morning, or perhaps drew rein to

ask this or that of Hugon. The trader was well known, and was an authority

upon all matters pertaining to hunting or trapping. The foot passengers

were few, for in Virginia no man walked that could ride, and on a morn of

early May they that walked were like to be busy in the fields. An ancient

seaman, lame and vagabond, lurched beside them for a while, then lagged

behind; a witch, old and bowed and bleared of eye, crossed their path; and

a Sapony hunter, with three wolves' heads slung across his shoulder,

slipped by them on his way to claim the reward decreed by the Assembly. At

a turn of the road they came upon a small ordinary, with horses fastened

before it, and with laughter, oaths, and the rattling of dice issuing from

the open windows. The trader had money; the storekeeper had none. The

latter, though he was thirsty, would have passed on; but Hugon twitched

him by the sleeve, and producing from the depths of his great flapped

pocket a handful of crusadoes, écues, and pieces of eight, indicated with

a flourish that he was prepared to share with his less fortunate

companion.