looked upon his eye, as it somewhat impertinently singled me out for
observation, I almost felt disposed to lift my heel as if the venomous
reptile were crawling under it."

"You are not the only one, 'squire, that's afraid of Guy Rivers."

"Afraid of him! you mistake me, Forrester; I fear no man," replied the
youth, somewhat hastily interrupting the woodman. "I am not apt to fear,
and certainly have no such feeling in regard to this person. I distrust,
and would avoid him, merely as one who, while possessing none of the
beauty, may yet have many of the propensities and some of the poison of
the snake to which I likened him."

"Well, 'squire, I didn't use the right word, that's certain, when I said
afraid, you see; because 'tan't in Carolina and Georgia, and hereabouts,
that men are apt to get frightened at trifles. But, as you say, Guy
Rivers is not the right kind of man, and everybody here knows it, and
keeps clear of him. None cares to say much to him, except when it's a
matter of necessity, and then they say as little as may be. Nobody knows
much about him--he is here to-day and gone to-morrow--and we never see
much of him except when there's some mischief afoot. He is thick with
Munro, and they keep together at all times, I believe. He has money, and
knows how to spend it. Where he gets it is quite another thing."

"What can be the source of the intimacy between himself and Munro? Is he
interested in the hotel?"

"Why, I can't say for that, but I think not. The fact is, the tavern is
nothing to Munro; he don't care a straw about it, and some among us do
whisper that he only keeps it a-going as a kind of cover for other