afternoon, were driven about by a rough wind, which went on rising
steadily. The grim phantom-haunted clouds came closer and closer round
about me as darkness grew apace, and now and then the gust brought with
it a vicious "spate" of rain. With no immediate prospect of shelter, my
position became less and less lively. I had not bargained for a night on
the highroad, or lodgings in a dry ditch or under a tree. Indeed those
luxuries were not at hand; for trees there were none bordering the road,
or in the open fields which stretched away on either side; and as for a
_dry_ ditch, I heard the streams gurgling along the watercourses, which
were full to overflowing, as well they might be, seeing that it had
rained for three days.

My object was to reach the village of Bueksad, but where was Bueksad now
in reference to myself? I had no idea it was such a devil of a way off
when I started. I had foolishly omitted to consult the map for myself,
and had just relied on what I was told, though I might have remembered
how loosely country-people all the world over speak of time and space.

When at length the darkness had become perplexing--_entre chien et
loup_, as the saying is--I met a peasant with a fierce-looking
sheep-dog by his side. The brute barked savagely round me as if he meant
mischief, and I soon told the peasant if he did not call off his dog
directly I would shoot him. He called his dog back, which proved he
understood German, so I then asked if I was anywhere near Bueksad. To my
dismay he informed me that it was a long way off; how long he would not
say, for without further parley he strode on, and he and his dog were
soon lost to view in the thick misty darkness.

Not a furlong farther, I came suddenly upon a house by the roadside, and
a man coming out of the door with a light at the same moment enabled me
to see "Vendeglo" on a small signboard. Good-luck: here, then, was an
inn, where at least shelter was possible; and shelter was much to be
desired, seeing that the rain was now a steady downpour. On making
inquiries, I found that I was already in Bueksad. The peasant had played
off a joke at my expense, or perhaps dealt me a Roland for an Oliver,
for threatening to shoot his dog. A _paprika handl_ was soon prepared
for me. In all parts of the country where travellers are possible, the
invariable reply to a demand for something to eat is the query, "Would
the gentleman like _paprika handl_?" and he had better like