While he was standing by the side of his wagon, wondering how
he should get along, Old Ben came in. The water was pouring from
his clothes in little rivulets, and he afforded most unmistakable
evidence of the damp state of the weather.
"It's a nasty night, my boy," said the old driver, in much the same
cheery tone that he would have used had he been informing Toby that
it was a beautiful moonlight evening.
"I guess I'll get wet," said Toby, ruefully, as he looked up at
the lofty seat which he was to occupy.
"Bless me!" said Ben, as if the thought had just come to him, "it
won't do for you to ride outside on a night like this. You wait
here, an' I'll see what I can do for you."
The old man hurried off to the other end of the tent, and almost
before Toby thought he had time to go as far as the ring he returned.
"It's all right," he said, and this time in a gruff voice, as if
he were announcing some misfortune; "you 're to ride in the women's
wagon. Come with me."
Toby followed without a question, though he was wholly at a loss
to understand what the "women's wagon" was, for he had never seen
anything which looked like one.
He soon learned, however, when Old Ben stopped in front -- or,
rather, at the end -- of a long, covered wagon that looked like
an omnibus, except that it was considerably longer, and the seats
inside were divided by arms, padded, to make them comfortable to
lean against.
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