lacking the patience as well as the keener sight of youth, he was forced
to relight the candle which he had left on the counter, and reperused
the paper. Yes! there was certainly no mistake! Here was the actual
description of the property which the surveyor had just indicated as
the future terminus of the new railroad, and here it was conveyed to
him--Daniel Harkutt! What was that? Somebody knocking? What did this
continual interruption mean? An odd superstitious fear now mingled with
his irritation.

The sound appeared to come from the front shutters. It suddenly
occurred to him that the light might be visible through the crevices. He
hurriedly extinguished it, and went to the door.

"Who's there?"

"Me,--Peters. Want to speak to you."

Mr. Harkutt with evident reluctance drew the bolts. The wind, still
boisterous and besieging, did the rest, and precipitately propelled
Peters through the carefully guarded opening. But his surprise at
finding himself in the darkness seemed to forestall any explanation of
his visit.

"Well," he said with an odd mingling of reproach and suspicion. "I
declare I saw a light here just this minit! That's queer."

"Yes, I put it out just now. I was goin' away," replied Harkutt, with
ill-disguised impatience.

"What! been here ever since?"

"No," said Harkutt curtly.

"Well, I want to speak to ye about 'Lige. Seein' the candle shinin'
through the chinks I thought he might be still with ye. If he ain't, it
looks bad. Light up, can't ye! I want to show you something."

There was a peremptoriness in his tone that struck Harkutt disagreeably,
but observing that he was carrying something in his hand, he somewhat
nervously re-lit the candle and faced him. Peters had a hat in his hand.
It was 'Lige's!

"'Bout an hour after we fellers left here," said Peters, "I heard the
rattlin' of hoofs on the road, and then it seemed to stop just by my
house. I went out with a lantern, and, darn my skin! if there warn't
'Lige's hoss, the saddle empty, and 'Lige nowhere! I looked round and
called him--but nothing were to be seen. Thinkin' he might have slipped
off--tho' ez a general rule drunken men don't, and he is a good rider--I
followed down the road, lookin' for him. I kept on follerin' it down to
your run, half a mile below."

"But," began Harkutt, with a quick nervous laugh, "you don't reckon that
because of that he"--

"Hold on!" said Peters, grimly producing a revolver from his side-pock