Book One - Chapter 18 The Hedge-Tavern

Twigs whipped my face, thorns and brambles dragged at my clothes,
hidden obstacles lay in wait for my feet, for the wood grew
denser as I advanced, but I pushed on, heedless alike of these
and of what direction I took. But, as luck would have it, I
presently blundered upon a path which, in a short time, brought
me out very suddenly into what appeared to be a small tavern
yard, for on either hand was a row of tumble-down stables and
barns, while before me was a low, rambling structure which I
judged was the tavern itself. I was yet standing looking about
me when a man issued from the stables upon my right, bearing a
hammer in one hand and a lanthorn in the other.

"Hallo!" said he, staring at me.

"Hallo!" said I, staring at him.

"You don't chance to 'ave a axle-bolt about you, I suppose?"

"No," said I.

"Humph!" he grunted, and, lowering his lanthorn, began searching
among the cobblestones.

"Is this it?" I inquired, picking up a rusty screw-bolt at my
feet.

"Ah!" said he, taking it from me with a nod, "know'd I dropped it
'ere some'eres. Ye see," he went on, "couldn't get another round
'ere to-night, and that cussed axle's got to be in place
to-morra."

"Yes?" said I.