It's out of place.
"Here's a package to leave at Mr. Scudder's, the third house on the
left-hand side after you get into Jericho. What do you charge?" asked a
man who seemed to know the driver.
"Pout a leffy," answered he. Receiving the silver, he gathered up the
reins, and put the square package in the stage-box. Just as he started
the horses, he leaned his head out of the stage, and, looking back to
the man who gave him the package, shouted out the question:
"Ter fird haus on ter lef hant out of Yeriko?" The man didn't hear him,
but the driver was satisfied. On we went at a pretty good rate,
considering how heavy the roads were. Another tavern, more watering,
more apple-jack. Another long stretch of sand, and we were coming into
Jericho.
"Anypotty know ter Miss Scutter haus?" asked the driver, bracing his
feet on the mail-bag which lay in front of him, and screwing his head
round so as to face in. There seemed to be a consultation going on
inside the stage.
"I don't know nobody o' that name in Jericho. Do you, Lishe?" asked a
weather-beaten-looking man, who evidently "went by water," of another
one who apparently went the same way.
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