It was the period of thunder and hailstorms--the deadly foe of the vine.
At length Barebone pulled up and waited; for he could hear the sound of wheels behind him, and noted that it was not increasing in loudness.
"Can you not go faster ?" he shouted to Jean, when, at length, the carriage approached.
Jean made no answer, but lashed his horse and pointed upward to the sky with his whip.

Barebone rode in front to encourage the slower horse.

At the village of Mortagne he signed to Jean to wait before the inn until he had taken his horse to the stable and paid for its hire.

Then he clambered to the box beside him and they rattled down the long street and out into the open road that led across the marshes to the port--a few wooden houses and a jetty, running out from the shallows to the channel.
When they reached the jetty, going slowly at the last through the heavy dust, the air was still and breathless.

The rounded clouds still towered above them, making the river black with their deep shadows.