Argosy, Vol. 1 (December 9, 1882) — page 205: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

198 THE ARGOSY. About ten minutes later (though it seemed to him like ten hours) there came the grinding and jarring that told of brakes applied, and the next min- ute the train was at a standstill before the little station of Turonne. As the guard unlocked the door of the compartment in which Cottrell was waiting to be released he caught sight of the recumbent figure in the corner and made as though to rouse him. ‘No, no!” cried Cottrell, stepping in his path. “ He does not get out till the next stop. He is very tired and does not want to be disturbed. Don’t put anybody else in with him if you can help it. Here’s a franc.” “ Tres bien, monsicur,” replied the guard, pocketing the coin, and he effu- sively helped Cottrell with his two portmanteaux, and deposited them on the platform. The American looked eagerly around, but apparently there was no one waiting for him. It was a small village evidently, and only one public con- veyance was in sight, the driver of which was fast asleep on his- box. Picking up his luggage, he walked quickly around to the back of the sta- tion. As he did so, a short, rather stout man, with a large hat pulled down over his eyes, came out of the shadow of the building, and peered into Cot- trell’s face. ‘““ Ah, Monsieur Cottrell,” he said briskly, “I am Jean Daron. Step this way, please.” Cottrell followed the man down a short narrow lane, hedged in on both sides by tall bushes, and at the end of it was a sort of covered farmer's wagon, loaded with produce and sacks of meal. ‘‘ Step in,” said the man. Henry Cottrell hesitated. This man, who was nothing but a bourgeois, .and his country conveyance, were so unlike what Cottrell had expected that he stood bewildered. There was something very strange about an employer whose position re- quired a private secretary, sending for him this queer rig. ‘“Come, come, monsieur,” growled Jean Daron. “ We've no time to lose. Hello, what’s that? ” The two men started, for a great commotion and hubbub were heard from the direction of the railway station, where the train still stood. One of the men knew only too well what it meant. In a few hurried words he explained to Daron his adventure with the lieu- tenant. “ And now,” concluded Cottrell, “ you’ve got to hide me some way, or I’m caught, sure.” ‘It’s a bad bit of business, monsieur,” replied the Frenchman, shaking his head gloomily, “ and especially coming just at this time. There’s nothing to do but to stick you in the bottom of the cart, and make a bold run for it in the open.” In a moment Cottrell found himself nearly smothered underneath the sacks of meal, the cart was soon bumping and jolting along over the rough country road. They had not gone a quarter of a mile when there was noise of shouting GONG OOO ceo