"What do you think?" he asked. "I don't know," said Weir. "I've never heard of it being done under these conditions; but, then," and he nodded his head, his eye fixed thoughtfully upon Anthony, "we have here a young man who has led trains through the wilderness, and across the deserts. So, under any human circumstances, from New Castle to the city should be no impossible task." "Well," said Charles to Anthony, "if you have the mind to try the thing, there it is for you." An hour later, while the horses were being put to the sleigh in Cobbler's Place, Anthony told Churchman what he had in mind. The optimist rose freshly to the idea, his eyes snapping. "The only thing against you is a sudden change in the weather great enough to soften the roads," said he. Then he scanned the patch of sky that could be seen between the walls of the court and seemed to taste of the quality of the wind. "And there's not much chance of that," said he. "This cold wind will keep things hard as iron for weeks to come." Anthony settled the thick, warm robes about him and was off along Second Street; and, finally below the lower ferry, he struck into the road that ran along the river. It was afternoon when he drew up in Chester for a snack of food, some warming drink, and to have the horses seen to. He crossed the state line in that gray hour just before nightfall; the wind from the river, away to the left, was bleak and heavy; the runners whined as they slid over the frozen snow; Anthony's knees were stiff, and despite the generous wrappings he began to feel his blood chill. He saw a man cutting wood in a patch of timber not far from the road, and drove toward him. "How many miles is it to the nearest tavern where a bed can be had for the night?" The ax bit deeply into the log and was allowed to stay so, while the man beat his blue hands together and answered: "There's a village about five miles along the way you're going. But the inn is a rough place, and small; and the food is not over-good." "Years ago," said Anthony, "when I knew something of the roads further to the north, I'd hear of a tavern called "the Brig" which I understood was somewhere hereabouts." The man's face wore a curious expression as he looked at Anthony. Then he said: "It's open still, and is clean, and has excellent, good beds. There's cookery to be had in that place the like of which you seldom come upon; and as for its spirits and malt liquors, well, sir, they are rare, indeed!" The place where Anthony had stopped was on the shoulder of a hill; night was now lowering over the desolate winter landscape with its bare fields, stunted trees, and ice-filled marsh. The wood-cutter pointed in the direction of the river. "Do you see that road winding along there?" asked he. "And there, in a hollow near it, a clump of cedars?" "I do," said Anthony. "And I also see something rising up from among the trees like the mast of a ship."