The Broad Highway

Twigs whipped my face, thorns and brambles dragged at my clothes,

hidden obstacles lay in wait for my feet, for the wood grew

denser as I advanced, but I pushed on, heedless alike of these

and of what direction I took. But, as luck would have it, I

presently blundered upon a path which, in a short time, brought

me out very suddenly into what appeared to be a small tavern

yard, for on either hand was a row of tumble-down stables and

barns, while before me was a low, rambling structure which I

judged was the tavern itself. I was yet standing looking about

me when a man issued from the stables upon my right, bearing a

hammer in one hand and a lanthorn in the other.

"Hallo!" said he, staring at me.

"Hallo!" said I, staring at him.

"You don't chance to 'ave a axle-bolt about you, I suppose?"

"No," said I.

"Humph!" he grunted, and, lowering his lanthorn, began searching

among the cobblestones.

"Is this it?" I inquired, picking up a rusty screw-bolt at my

feet.

"Ah!" said he, taking it from me with a nod, "know'd I dropped it

'ere some'eres. Ye see," he went on, "couldn't get another round

'ere to-night, and that cussed axle's got to be in place

to-morra."

"Yes?" said I.

"Ah!" nodded the man; "chaise come in 'ere 'arf-an-hour ago wi'

two gentlemen and a lady, in the Lord's own 'urry too. 'Mend

this axle, me man,' says one on 'em--a top-sawyer be the looks

on 'im--'mend this axle, and quick about it.' 'Can't be done,

my lord,' says I. 'W'y not?' says 'e, showin' 'is teeth

savage-like. 'Because it can't,' says I, 'not no'ow, me lord,'

says I. Well, after cussin' 'isself well-nigh black in the face,

'e orders me to have it ready fust thing to-morra, and if you

'adn't found that there bolt for me it wouldn't have been ready

fust thing to-morra, which would ha' been mighty bad for me, for

this 'ere gentleman's a fire-and-fury out-and-outer, and no error."

"Can I have a bed here, do you think?" I inquired.

"Ah," said he, "I think you can."

"For how much, do you suppose?"

"To you--sixpence."

"Why, that seems reasonable," said I.

"It are," nodded the man, "and a fine feather bed too! But then,

Lord, one good turn deserves another--"