"You--you--live there?" stammered the invalid, with a troubled
expression--the first and only change to the complete happiness
that had hitherto suffused his face. "You--and your name is--is
Ma--"

"Alvarado," said Don Caesar, gently. Caesar Alvarado."

"You said Masters," said the old man, with sudden querulousness.

"No, good friend. I said Alvarado," returned Don Caesar, gravely.

"If you didn't say Masters, how could I say it? I don't know any
Masters."

Don Caesar was silent. In another moment the happy tranquillity
returned to Slinn's face; and Don Caesar continued:--

"It is not a long walk over the hill, though it is far by the road.
When you are better you shall try it. Yonder little trail leads to
the top of the hill, and then--"

He stopped, for the invalid's face had again assumed its troubled
expression. Partly to change his thoughts, and partly for some
inexplicable idea that had suddenly seized him, Don Caesar
continued:--

"There is a strange old stump near the trail, and in it a hole. In
the hole I found this letter." He stopped again--this time in
alarm. Slinn had staggered to his feet with ashen and distorted
features, and was glancing at the letter which Don Caesar had drawn