On the Road from Balak

"How much farther have we to go, lieutenant?" asked the girl on the
rear seat, plaintively, even humbly. The man was very deliberate with
his English. He had been recommended to her as the best linguist in the
service at Radovitch, and he had a reputation to sustain.

"It another hour is but yet," he managed to inform her, with a confident
smile.

"Oh, dear," she sighed, "a whole hour of this!"

"We soon be dar, Miss Bev'ly; jes' yo' mak' up yo' mine to res'
easy-like, an' we--" but the faithful old colored woman's advice was
lost in the wrathful exclamation that accompanied another dislodgment of
bags and boxes. The wheels of the coach had dropped suddenly into a deep
rut. Aunt Fanny's growls were scarcely more potent than poor Miss
Beverly's moans.

"It is getting worse and worse," exclaimed Aunt Fanny's mistress,
petulantly. "I'm black and blue from head to foot, aren't you, Aunt
Fanny?"

"Ah cain' say as to de blue, Miss Bev'ly. Hit's a mos' monstrous bad
road, sho 'nough. Stay up dar, will yo'!" she concluded, jamming a bag
into an upper corner.

Miss Calhoun, tourist extraordinary, again consulted the linguist in the
saddle. She knew at the outset that the quest would be hopeless, but she
could think of no better way to pass the next hour then to extract a
mite of information from the officer.