But it was nearly
eleven before Heman Daniels' important and dignified step sounded on the
front stairs and by that time the Hammond nerves were as taut as banjo
strings.
It was nearly twelve before he dared creep downstairs and out of the
back door, the key of which he left in the lock. Luckily the barn was
a good distance from the house and Mrs. Barnes and Imogene were sound
sleepers. But even with those advantages he did not dare attempt
getting the buggy out of the barn, and decided to use the old discarded
carryall, relic of "Cap'n Abner," which now stood under the open shed at
the rear.
George Washington looked at him in sleepy wonder as he tiptoed into
the barn and lit the lantern. To be led out of his stall at "midnight's
solemn hour" and harnessed was more than George's equine reasoning could
fathom. The harnessing was a weird and wonderful operation. Caleb's
trembling fingers were all thumbs. After a while, however, the
harnessing was accomplished somehow and in some way, although whether
the breeching was where the bridle should have been or vice versa was
more than the harnesser would have dared swear. After several centuries,
as the prospective bridegroom was reckoning time, the horse was between
the shafts of the carriage and driven very carefully along the road to
the Parker homestead.
He hitched the sleepy animal to a pine tree just off the road and
tiptoed toward the hollow, the appointed rendezvous. To reach this
hollow he was obliged to pass through the Parker yard and, although he
went on tiptoe, each footstep sounded, in his ears, like the crack of
doom.
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