My object was to reach the village of Bueksad, but where was Bueksad now
in reference to myself? I had no idea it was such a devil of a way off
when I started. I had foolishly omitted to consult the map for myself,
and had just relied on what I was told, though I might have remembered
how loosely country-people all the world over speak of time and space.
When at length the darkness had become perplexing--_entre chien et
loup_, as the saying is--I met a peasant with a fierce-looking
sheep-dog by his side. The brute barked savagely round me as if he meant
mischief, and I soon told the peasant if he did not call off his dog
directly I would shoot him. He called his dog back, which proved he
understood German, so I then asked if I was anywhere near Bueksad. To my
dismay he informed me that it was a long way off; how long he would not
say, for without further parley he strode on, and he and his dog were
soon lost to view in the thick misty darkness.
Not a furlong farther, I came suddenly upon a house by the roadside, and
a man coming out of the door with a light at the same moment enabled me
to see "Vendeglo" on a small signboard. Good-luck: here, then, was an
inn, where at least shelter was possible; and shelter was much to be
desired, seeing that the rain was now a steady downpour. On making
inquiries, I found that I was already in Bueksad. The peasant had played
off a joke at my expense, or perhaps dealt me a Roland for an Oliver,
for threatening to shoot his dog.
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