When he had concluded the strange story, Cloudy started up, took his
hat, and was about to leave the room,
"Where are you going, Cloudy?"
"To the stables to saddle my horse, to ride to Leonardtown this night!"
"It is nearly twelve o'clock."
"I know it, but by hard riding I can reach Leonardtown by morning, and
be with Thurston as soon as the prison doors are opened. And I will ask
you, Paul, to be kind enough to forward my trunks from the tavern at
Benedict to Leonardtown, where I shall remain to be near Thurston as
long as he needs my services."
"God bless you, Cloudy! I myself wished to accompany him, but he would
not for a moment hear of my doing so--he entreated me to return hither
to take care of poor Fanny and the homestead."
Cloudy scarcely waited to hear this benediction, but hurried to the
stables, found and saddled his horse, threw himself into the stirrups,
and in five minutes was dashing rapidly through the thick, low-lying
forest stretching inland from the coast.
Eight hours of hard riding brought him to the county seat.
Just stopping long enough to have his horse put up at the best hotel and
to inquire his way to the prison, he hurried thither.
It was nearly nine o'clock, and the street corners were thronged with
loungers conversing in low, eager tones upon the present all-absorbing
topic of discourse--the astounding event of the arrest of the great
preacher, the Rev.
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