"Chut!" he said in his French fashion, as Malone made a noise with his glass. He listened a moment, then rose, put his hat on, and went out at the counting-house door.
The night was still, dark, and stagnant: the water yet rushed on full and fast; its flow almost seemed a flood in the utter silence. Moore's ear, however, caught another sound, very distant but yet dissimilar, broken and rugged--in short, a sound of heavy wheels crunching a stony road. He returned to the counting-house and lit a lantern, with which he walked down the mill-yard, and proceeded to open the gates. The big wagons were coming on; the dray-horses' huge hoofs were heard splashing in the mud and water. Moore hailed them.
"Hey, Joe Scott! Is all right?"

"Chut!" he said in his French fashion. He listened a moment, then rose and went out.
The night was still, dark, and stagnant: the water rushed on full and fast, sounding like a flood in the silence. Moore's ear, however, caught another sound, very distant, broken and rugged - a sound of heavy wheels crunching a stony road. He lit a lantern, walked down the mill-yard, and opened the gates. The wagons were coming; the dray-horses' huge hoofs were heard splashing in the mud and water. Moore hailed them.
"Hey, Joe Scott! Is all right?"
