Green Fancy | Page 3

and
into the dark forest, a far from appealing prospect. Not a sign of
habitation was visible along the black ridge of the wood; no lighted
window peeped down from the shadows, no smoke curled up from
unseen kitchen stoves. Gallantry ordered him to proffer his aid or, at
the least, advice to the woman, be she young or old, native or stranger.
Retracing his steps, he called out to her above the gale:

"Can I be of any assistance to you?"
She turned quickly. He saw that the veil was drawn tightly over her
face.
"No, thank you," she replied. Her voice, despite a certain nervous note,
was soft and clear and gentle,--the voice and speech of a well- bred
person who was young and resolute.
"Pardon me, but have you much farther to go? The storm will soon be
upon us, and--surely you will not consider me presumptuous--I don't
like the idea of your being caught out in--"
"What is to be done about it?" she inquired, resignedly. "I must go on. I
can't wait here, you know, to be washed back to the place I started
from."
He smiled. She had wit as well as determination. There was the
suggestion of mirth in her voice--and certainly it was a most pleasing,
agreeable voice.
"If I can be of the least assistance to you, pray don't hesitate to
command me. I am a sort of tramp, you might say, and I travel as well
by night as I do by day,--so don't feel that you are putting me to any
inconvenience. Are you by any chance bound for Hart's Tavern? If so, I
will be glad to lag behind and carry your bag."
"You are very good, but I am not bound for Hart's Tavern, wherever
that may be. Thank you, just the same. You appear to be an
uncommonly genteel tramp, and it isn't because I am afraid you might
make off with my belongings." She added the last by way of apology.
He smiled--and then frowned as he cast an uneasy look at the black
clouds now rolling ominously up over the mountain ridge.
"By Jove, we're going to catch it good and hard," he exclaimed. "Better
take my advice. These storms are terrible. I know, for I've encountered
half a dozen of them in the past week. They fairly tear one to pieces."

"Are you trying to frighten me?"
"Yes," he confessed. "Better to frighten you in advance than to let it
come later on when you haven't any one to turn to in your terror. You
are a stranger in these parts?"
"Yes. The railway station is a few miles below here. I have walked all
the way. There was no one to meet me. You are a stranger also, so it is
useless to inquire if you know whether this road leads to Green Fancy."
"Green Fancy? Sounds attractive. I'm sorry I can't enlighten you." He
drew a small electric torch from his pocket and directed its slender ray
upon the sign-post. So fierce was the gale by this time that he was
compelled to brace his strong body against the wind.
"It is on the road to Frogg's Corner," she explained nervously. "A mile
and a half, so I am told. It isn't on the sign-post. It is a house, not a
village. Thank you for your kindness. And I am not at all frightened,"
she added, raising her voice slightly.
"But you ARE" he cried. "You're scared half out of your wits. You
can't fool me. I'd be scared myself at the thought of venturing into those
woods up yonder."
"Well, then, I AM frightened," she confessed plaintively. "Almost out
of my boots."
"That settles it," he said flatly. "You shall not undertake it."
"Oh, but I must. I am expected. It is import--"
"If you are expected, why didn't some one meet you at the station?
Seems to me--"
"Hark! Do you hear--doesn't that sound like an automobile--Ah!" The
hoarse honk of an automobile horn rose above the howling wind, and
an instant later two faint lights came rushing toward them around a
bend in the mountain road. "Better late than never," she cried, her voice

vibrant once more.
He grasped her arm and jerked her out of the path of the on-coming
machine, whose driver was sending it along at a mad rate, regardless of
ruts and stones and curves. The car careened as it swung into the pike,
skidded alarmingly, and then the brakes were jammed down. Attended
by a vast grinding of gears and wheels, the rattling old car came to a
stop fifty feet or more beyond them.
"I'd sooner walk than take my chances in an antediluvian rattle-trap like
that," said the tall wayfarer, bending quite close to