Involuntarily I said:
"Another member of my society: and in distress!"
I had a heart at that moment for anything. I felt like some old
neighbourly Knight travelling the earth in search of adventure. If there
had been a distressed mistress handy at that moment, I feel quite
certain I could have died for her--if absolutely necessary.
As I drove alongside, the stocky, stout lad of a farmer in his brown
duck coat lined with sheep's wool, came up from between the wheels. His
cap was awry, his trousers were muddy at the knees where he had knelt in
the moist road, and his face was red and angry.
A true knight, I thought to myself, looks not to the beauty of his lady,
but only to her distress.
"What's the matter, Brother?" I asked in the friendliest manner.
"Bolt gone," he said gruffly, "and I got to get to town before
nightfall."
"Get in," I said, "and we'll drive back. We shall see it in the road."
So he got in. I drove the mare slowly up the hill and we both leaned out
and looked. And presently there in the road the bolt lay. My farmer got
out and picked it up.
"It's all right," he said. "I was afraid it was clean busted. I'm
obliged to you for the lift."
"Hold on," I said, "get in, I'll take you back.
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