And now the men say they can't go back to Fellside unless we can get fresh horses; and I'm afraid there's no chance of that here.' 'Here!' exclaimed the Earl, 'what do you mean by here?
Where the devil are we ?' 'Great Langdale, my lord.' A door opened and let out a flood of light--the red light of a wood fire, the pale flame of a candle--upon the snowy darkness, revealing the panelled hall of a neat little rustic inn: an eight-day clock ticking in the corner, a black and white sheep-dog coming out at his master's heels to investigate the travellers.

To the right of the door showed the light of a window, sheltered by a red curtain, behind which the chiefs of the village were enjoying their evening.
'Have you any post-horses ?' asked the Earl, discontentedly, as the landlord stood on the threshold, shading the candle with his hand.

'No, sir.

We don't keep post-horses.' 'Of course not.

I knew as much before I asked,' said the Earl.
'We are fixed in this dismal hole for the night, I suppose.