"Sam," it called, "have you found either of the scoundrelly rascals?"

The darkey started as if shot, and glanced nervously back over his
shoulder.

"No, sah," he replied with vigor, "dat Mistah Hawkins am not yere, sah.
An' dat Mistah Burns has gone 'way fer gud, sah. But dar am a gemman
yere, sah,--"

"What!" came a surprised ejaculation that caused the negro to jump, and
I heard a chair overturned within. "A gentleman? Sam, don't deceive
me! For the love of Heaven, let me see him. May I be bastinadoed if
it hasn't been three months since my eyes beheld the last specimen!
Sam, where was it I saw the last one?"

"Montreal, sah."

"By Saint Guise! 'tis gospel truth," and the speaker strode forward,
candle in hand. "Here, now, you ace of spades," he cried impatiently,
"hold the flame until I bid this paragon of the wilderness fit welcome
in the name of Hawkins, who strangely seems to have vanished from the
sylvan scene. Alas, poor Hawkins! two gentlemen at one time, I greatly
fear, will be the death of him. Would that his good friend Burns might
be with him on this festive occasion. Ye gods, what a time it would
be!"

As the black hastily reached out for the candlestick, his erratic
master as quickly changed his mind.