“They must be dead,” declared Thankful.  “There’s been smashin’ and crackin’ and hollerin’ enough to wake up anybody that wa’n’t buried.  How that wind does blow!  I—­Hello! here comes that man at last.  About time, I should say!”

Winnie S. appeared, bearing the lantern.

“What you doin’?” he asked.  “There ain’t no use ringin’ that bell.  Nobody’ll hear it.”

Thankful, who had just given the bell a third pull, took her hand from the knob.

“Why not?” she demanded.  “It makes noise enough.  I should think a graven image would hear it.  What is this, a home for deaf people?”

Winnie S. grinned. “’Tain’t nobody’s home, not now,” he said.  “This house is empty.  Ain’t nobody lived in it for ’most a year.”

The two women looked at each other.  Mrs. Barnes drew along breath.

“Well,” she observed, “if this ain’t the last straw.  Such a cruise as we’ve had; and finally be shipwrecked right in front of a house and find it’s an empty one!  Don’t talk to me!  Well,” sharply, “what shall we do next?”

The driver shook his head.

“Dummed if I know!” he answered.  “The old wagon can’t go another yard.  I—­I cal’late you folks’ll have to stay here for a spell.”

“Stay?  Where’ll we stay; out here in the middle of this howlin’ wilderness?”

“I guess so.  Unless you want to walk the rest of the way, same’s I’m cal’latin’ to.  I’m goin’ to unharness the horse and put him under the shed here and then hoof it over to the village and get somebody to come and help.  You can come along if you want to, but it’ll be a tougher v’yage than the one we’ve come through.”

“How far off is this—­this village of yours?”

“Oh, about a mile and a half!”

“A mile and a half!  And it’s beginnin’ to rain again!  Emily, I don’t know how you feel, but if the horse can wait under the shed until somebody comes I guess we can.  I say let’s do it.”

Emily nodded.  “Of course, Auntie,” she said, emphatically.  “We couldn’t walk a mile and a half in a storm like this.  Of course we must wait.  Where is the shed?”

Winnie S. led the way to the shed.  It was a ramshackle affair, open on one side.  General Jackson, tethered to a rusty ring at the back, whinnied a welcome.

The driver, holding the lantern aloft, looked about him.  His two passengers looked also.

“Well,” observed Thankful, “this may have been a shed once, but it’s more like a sieve now.  There’s more leaks to the roof than there is boards, enough sight.  However, any port in a storm, and we’ve got the storm, sartin.  All right, Mister What’s-your-name, we’ll wait.”

Winnie S. turned away.  Then he turned back again.

“Maybe I’d better leave you the lantern,” he said, doubtfully.  “I guess likely I could get along without it and—­and ’twould make it more sociable for you.”

He put the lantern down on the earth floor beside them and strode off into the dark.  Mrs. Barnes called after him.