of quite unworthy annoyance because I was still treading in the
glamour of the Professor's influence. The Pratts would talk of
nothing else, and I wanted to get somewhere where I would be
estimated at my own value, not merely as his disciple. "Darn the
Redbeard," I said to myself, "I think he has bewitched these
people!" And in spite of their protests and invitations to stay the
night, I insisted on having Peg hitched up. I gave them the copy
of the "Jungle Book" as a small return for their hospitality,
and finally sold Mr. Pratt a little copy of "Lamb's Tales from
Shakespeare" which I thought he could read without brain fever. Then
I lit my lantern and after a chorus of good-byes Parnassus rolled
away. "Well," I said to myself as I turned into the high road once
more, "drat the gingersnap, he seems to hypnotize everybody... he
must be nearly in Brooklyn by this time!"

It was very quiet along the road, also very dark, for the sky had
clouded over and I could see neither moon nor stars. As it was a
direct road I should have had no difficulty, and I suppose I must
have fallen into a doze during which Peg took a wrong turning. At
any rate, I realized about half-past nine that Parnassus was on a
much rougher road than the highway had any right to be, and there
were no telephone poles to be seen. I knew that they stretched
all along the main road, so plainly I had made a mistake. I was
reluctant for a moment to admit that I could be wrong, and just
then Peg stumbled heavily and stood still. She paid no heed to my
exhortations, and when I got out and carried my lantern to see
whether anything was in the way, I found that she had cast a shoe
and her foot was bleeding. The shoe must have dropped off some way
back and she had picked up a nail or something in the quick. I saw
no alternative but to stay where I was for the night.