forgotten Sissy for a time, even if they had had nothing to relate of
personal interest to himself. As it was, even in the excitement of
hearing what was of importance concerning his own property, he did not
wholly forget her; but while his visitors remained his anxiety was in
abeyance.

When they were packing their instruments to depart, the young American,
who had not been with them during the morning, came and took Bates aside
in a friendly way.

"See here," he said, "were you gassing about that young lady? There
ain't no young lady now, is there?"

"I told you"--with some superiority of manner--"she is not a young lady;
she is a working girl, an emigrant's----"

"Oh, Glorianna!" he broke out, "girl or lady, what does it matter to me?
Do you mean to say you've really lost her?"

The question was appalling to Bates. All the morning he had not dared to
face such a possibility and now to have the question hurled at him with
such imperative force by another was like a terrible blow. But when a
blow is thus dealt from the outside, a man like Bates rallies all the
opposition of his nature to repel it.

"Not at all"--his manner was as stiff as ever--"she is lurking somewhere
near."

"Look here--I've been up the hill that way, and that way, and that
way"--he indicated the directions with his hand--"and I've been down