"One thing I'll promise you," said Gilbert, with a meaning look, "that I
won't let him walk into the bar-room of the Unicorn, without hindrance."

"I'll bet you won't!" Barton exclaimed. "All _I'm_ afraid of is, that he
won't try it again."

"We'll see; this highway-robbery must have an end. I must now be going.
Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Gilbert; take care o' yourself!" said Barton, in a very good
humor, now that the uncomfortable interview was over. "And, I say," he
added, "remember that I stand ready to do you a good turn, whenever I
can!"

"Thank you!" responded Gilbert, as he turned Roger's head; but he said
to himself,--"when all other friends fail, I may come to _you_, not
sooner."

The next morning showed signs that the Indian Summer had reached its
close. All night long the wind had moaned and lamented in the chimneys,
and the sense of dread in the outer atmosphere crept into the house and
weighed upon the slumbering inmates. There was a sound in the forest as
of sobbing Dryads, waiting for the swift death and the frosty tomb. The
blue haze of dreams which had overspread the land changed into an ashy,
livid mist, dragging low, and clinging to the features of the landscape
like a shroud to the limbs of a corpse.

The time, indeed, had come for a change. It was the 2nd of November; and
after a summer and autumn beautiful almost beyond parallel, a sudden and
severe winter was generally anticipated. In this way, even the most