it's of interest to any one, I might mention that during my walk I
fell over a boulder which happened to be marked with the letters B.
H. and a cross-bones.

_Immense commotion and excitement. Every gaze turned to V. H.
(including that of cynical Scot) while on every cheek is the blush
of shame at remembering that this is the same Young Person whom
Miss Higglesby-Browne was permitted to cut off by treaty from the
ranks of the authorised treasure-seekers_.

Lured by this pleasing vision I had turned my back on Cookie and
the camp, when I was arrested by an exclamation:

"Miss Jinny!"

I turned to, find Cookie gazing after me with an expression which,
in the familiar phrase of fiction, I could not interpret, though
among its ingredients were doubt and anguish. Cookie, too, looked
pale. I don't in the least know how he managed it, but that was
the impression he conveyed, dusky as he was.

"Miss Jinny, it mos' look lak yo' 'bout to go perambulatin' in dese
yere woods?"

"I am, Cookie," I admitted.

The whites of Cookie's eyes became alarmingly conspicuous. Drawing
near in a stealthy manner he whispered:

"Yo' bettah not, Miss Jinny!"