d and became
a village street, bordered and arched by tall trees which groaned and
threshed in the hurricane. The rain, as it beat in over the boot, had,
so the lawyer fancied, a salty taste.

The captain bent down. "Say, Mister," he shouted, "where was it you
wanted to stop? Who is it you're lookin' for?"

"What?"

"I say--Heavens to Betsy! how that wind does screech!--I say where'bouts
shall I land you. This is South Denboro. Whose house do you want to go
to?"

"I'm looking for one of your leading citizens. Elisha Warren is his
name."

"What?"

"Elisha Warren. I--"

He was interrupted. There was a sharp crack overhead, followed by a
tremendous rattle and crash. Then down upon the buggy descended what,
to Graves, appeared to be an avalanche of scratching, tearing twigs
and branches. They ripped away the boot and laprobe and jammed him back
against the seat, their sharp points against his breast. The buggy was
jerked forward a few feet and stopped short.

He heard the clatter of hoofs and shouts of "Whoa!" and "Stand
still!" He tried to rise, but the tangle of twigs before him seemed
impenetrable, so he gave it up and remained where he was. Then, after an
interval, came a hail from the darkness.

"Hi, there! Mr. Graves, ahoy! Hurt, be you?"

"No," the lawyer's tone was doubtful. "No--o, I--I guess not. That you,
Captain?"

"Yes, it's me. Stand still, you foolhead! Quit your hoppin' up and
down!" These commands were evidently addressed to the horse. "Glad you
ain't hurt. Better get out, hadn't you?"

"I--I'm not sure that I can get out. What on earth has happened?"

"Tree limb carried away. Lucky for us we got the brush end, 'stead of
the butt. Scooch down and see if you can't wriggle out underneath. I
did."

Mr. Graves obediently "scooched." After a struggle he managed to slide
under the tangle of branches and, at length, stood on his feet in the
road beside the buggy. The great limb had fallen across the street, its
heavy end near the walk. As the captain had said, it was fortunate for
the travelers that the "brush" only had struck the carriage.

Graves found his companion standing at the horse's head, holding the
frightened animal by the bridle. The rain was descending in a flood.

"Well!" gasped the agitated New Yorker. "I'll be hanged if this isn't--"

"Ain't it? But say, Mr. Graves, _who_ did you say you was comin' to
see?"

"Oh, a person named Elisha Warren. He lives in this forsaken hole