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Excerpts from

Silas and the Black Mare

By Cecil Bødker

He came sailing down the river in an odd little broadnosed boat, not sitting up like other people and not using the oars, just letting the current carry him where it wished. He lay in the bottom with, apparently, all the time in the world, for the boat travelled at the river's speed and from a distance looked as if it were empty.
   Up in the loft of the long stable by the riverbank, Bartolin the horse dealer was pitching hay through a hole in the floor. It was very dusty; now and then he stuck his head out of the loft hatch to clear his lungs. Outside the day was beautiful, with a slightly hazy sun. Close by the stable the river swept past in a broad curve; he could follow it with his eyes for a good distance in both directions.
   Suddenly he stiffened and squinted into the glare. What was drifting towards him? A boat? It looked as if no one was in it. Could it be drifting without an owner?
   Bartolin tugged at his bushy beard thoughtfully. Perhaps he ought to take a closer look at it; he had been meaning to replace his old barge for a long time.
   He looked again, and the boat struck him as curiously foreign. So much the better if it came from far away, for then at least he would not be accused of having stolen it. He did wonder how it could have slipped past the town untouched. That could only have been due to the very early hour, for later, boys from town would have grabbed it. He was sure of that.
   Slowly the boat glided closer. It still looked empty, and Bartolin was convinced that it was meant for him. The boat was definitely without an owner, for the very way it came, drifting sideways, veering around, proved that no one was steering it.
   Bartolin had a good long scratch with a thick, rough finger under his collar. Things he could use didn’t often come his way, and he was about to turn from the hatch to clamber down to the feed alley when he suddenly stopped short and squinted once again. Did he see? – Yes, he distinctly saw two feet sticking up over the gunwale.

Translated by Sheila La Farge

 
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