n
search of him; and, at length, reached the Choctaw Chief--the place
where he should be found, if found at all.

On its doors being opened, they discover traces of him. No man named
Darke has been there, but one calling himself Quantrell, with another,
who went by the name of Walsh.

As, in this case, neither the landlord nor bar-keeper have any interest
in screening that particular pair of their late guests, they make no
attempt to do so; but, on the contrary, tell all they know about them;
adding, how both went away with a number of other gentlemen, who paid
their tavern bills, and took departure at an early hour of the morning.

The description of the other "gentlemen" is not so particularly given,
because not so specially called for. In that of Quantrell and Walsh,
Colonel Armstrong, without difficulty, identifies Richard Darke and the
jailer, Joe Harkness.

He, sheriff, constables, crowd, stand with countenances expressing
defeat--disappointment. They have reached the Choctaw Chief a little
too late. They know nothing of Borlasse, or how he has baffled them.
They but believe, that, for the second time, the assassin of Charles
Clancy has eluded the grasp of justice.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

A GHOST GOING ITS ROUNDS.

It is nearly a month since the day of Clancy's death; still the
excitement caused by it, though to some extent subsided, has not died
out. Curiosity and speculation are kept alive by the fact of the body
not having been found. For it has not. Search has been made everywhere
for miles around. Field and forest, creeks, ponds, swamp, and river,
have all been traversed and interrogated, in vain. All have refused to
surrender up the dead.

That Clancy is dead no one has a doubt. To say nothing of the blood
spilt beside his abandoned hat and gun, with the other circumstances
attendant, there is testimony of a moral nature, to many quite as
convincing.

Alive he would long since have returned home, at thought of what his
mother must be suffering. He was just the man to do that, as all who
knew him are aware. Even wounded and crippled, if able to crawl, it
would be to the side of the only woman at such a crisis he should care
for.

Though it is now known that he cared for another, no one entertains a
thought of his having gone off after _her_. It would not be in keeping
with his character, any more than with the incidents and events that
have conspired to make the mystery. Days pa