THROUGH THE NIGHT
he had bought the first day ashore but with poor success. He had to own at last that he hadn't any idea.
"Well, ten miles? Twenty? Fifty?"
"I suppose about twenty," he said doubtfully. Martin whistled softly and expressively, and peered at his watch.
"It's a little after nine-thirty," he mused. "At the rate we're going we ought to get there about five in the morning—if the horses don't die first!"
"Why go into Queenstown, then?" asked Nelson. "We're bound to find a village pretty soon. Anyhow, there's Midleton."
"How far's that?"
"About halfway, I guess."
"Well" Martin was silent a minute.
Then: "I tell you what we'll do, Nep. We're in wrong anyhow for out-staying liberty, and we might as well be hung for sheep as for lambs. We'll find this Midleton place you tell about and be sure we're headed right. Then we'll stop and have a few hours' sleep and drive into Queenstown in the morning in triumph. What do you say?"
"Sounds crazy to me," objected Nelson. "All except the sleep part of it. That sounds mighty reasonable. But of course what'll happen is that
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