'the
horse in the stall.'
He saw that it was no good, turned the sorrel slowly round, and
began to lead it across the village street. There was a shed
behind the inn, which I had already marked, and taken for the
stable, I was surprised when I found that he was not going there,
but I made no remark, and in a few minutes saw the horse made
comfortable in a hovel which seemed to belong to a neighbour.
This done, the man led the way back to the inn, carrying my
valise.
'You have no other guests?' I said, with a casual air. I knew
that he was watching me closely.
'No,' he answered.
'This is not much in the way to anywhere, I suppose?'
'No.'
That was so evident, that I never saw a more retired place. The
hanging woods, rising steeply to a great height, so shut the
valley in that I was puzzled to think how a man could leave it
save by the road I had come. The cottages, which were no more
than mean, small huts, ran in a straggling double line, with many
gaps--through fallen trees and ill-cleared meadows. Among them
a noisy brook ran in and out, and the inhabitants--charcoal-
burners, or swine-herds, or poor devils of the like class, were
no better than their dwellings.
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