forehead with grieved accents. "Then it seems YOU have. Kindly give her
my love."

"Which one?" asked the boy, with a swift glance of mischief. "I've got
four."

"The one that's like you," returned Hamlin, with prompt exactitude.
"Now, where's the 'bresh' you spoke of?"

"Keep along the edge until you come to the log-slide. Foller that, and
it'll lead you into the woods. But ye won't go far, I tell ye. When you
have to turn back, instead o' comin' back here, you kin take the trail
that goes round the woods, and that'll bring ye out into the stage road
ag'in near the post-office at the Green Springs crossin' and the new
hotel. That'll be war ye'll turn up, I reckon," he added, reflectively.
"Fellers that come yer gunnin' and fishin' gin'rally do," he concluded,
with a half-inquisitive air.

"Ah?" said Mr. Hamlin, quietly shedding the inquiry. "Green Springs
Hotel is where the stage stops, eh?"

"Yes, and at the post-office," said the boy. "She'll be along here
soon," he added.

"If you mean the Santa Cruz stage," said Hamlin, "she's here already. I
passed her on the ridge half an hour ago."

The boy gave a sudden start, and a quick uneasy expression passed over
his face. "Go 'long with ye!" he said, with a forced smile: "it ain't
her time yet."