“Well, you can’t git there this way,” he said, his tone changed a little; “the bridge is down, on this road and nobody don’t travel it much now—you’ll have to go back to Old Brick Church and take the other road. There’s a new bridge on that road, but it’s sort o’ rickety since these freshes, and you have to take to the old ford again. One of Hiram’s and Jonadab’s jobs,” he explained, with a note of hostility in his voice. Then, in a more friendly tone, he added: “The water’s up still from last night’s rain, and the ford ain’t the best no time, so you better not try it unless you have somebody as knows it to set you right. I would go myself, but—” He hesitated, a little embarrassed—and the Major at once protested. “No, indeed! Just tell me where is Old Brick Church.” “That fork back yonder where you turned is what’s called Old Brick Church,” said the man; “that’s where it used to stand.” “What has become of the church?” “Pulled down during the war.” “Why don’t they rebuild it?” asked the Major, a little testily over the man’s manner. “Well, I s’pose they think it’s cheaper to leave it down,” said the man, dryly. “Is there any place where we could spend the night?” the Major asked, with a glance up at the sunset sky. “Oh, Hiram Still, he’s got a big house. He’ll take you in, if he gits a chance,” he said, half grimly. “But I mean, if we get overtaken by night this side the river? You tell me the bridge is shaky and the ford filled up now. I have my daughter along and don’t want to take any chances.” “Oh, papa, the idea! As if I couldn’t go anywhere you went,” put in Ruth, suddenly. At the Major’s mention of his daughter, the man’s manner changed. “There’s Doct’r Cary’s,” he said, with a return of his first friendly tone. “They take everyone in. You just turn and go back by Old Brick Church, and keep the main, plain road till you pass two forks on your left and three on your right, then turn in at the third you come to on your left, and go down a hill and up another, and you’re right there.” The Major and Ruth were both laughing; their director, however, remained grave. “Ain’t no fences nor gates to stop you. Just keep the main, plain road, like I tell you, and you can’t git out.” “I can’t? Well, I’ll see,” said the Major, and after an inquiring look at the man, he turned and drove back. “What bright eyes he has,” said Ruth, but her father was pondering. “It’s a most curious thing; but that man’s face and voice were both familiar to me,” said he, presently. “Quite as if I had seen them before in a dream. Did you observe how his whole manner changed as soon as I mentioned Still’s name? They are a most intractable people.” “But I’m sure he was very civil,” defended Ruth. “Civility costs nothing and often means nothing. Ah, well, we shall see.” And the Major drove on.