the countryside in his case. On the contrary, I could see Mr Abney
becoming one of the busiest persons on record in his endeavour to
hush the thing up and prevent it getting into the papers. The man
with the pistol spoke. He sighted me--I was standing with my back
to the mantelpiece, parallel with the door--made a sharp turn, and
raised his weapon.

'Put 'em up, sport,' he said.

It was not the voice of Buck MacGinnis. I put my hands up.

'Say, which of dese is de Nugget?'

He half turned his head to the class.

'Which of youse kids is Ogden Ford?'

The class was beyond speech. The silence continued.

'Ogden Ford is not here,' I said.

Our visitor had not that simple faith which is so much better than
Norman blood. He did not believe me. Without moving his head he
gave a long whistle. Steps sounded outside. Another, short, sturdy
form, entered the room.

'He ain't in de odder room,' observed the newcomer. 'I been
rubberin'!'

This was friend Buck beyond question. I could have recognized his