t was awkward, but I could not help it, though I
blamed myself for saying even as much as I did.

Emily and I had become fast friends. Before we started from New Orleans,
Clarence had dressed me up in a new suit of black clothes, and I
flattered myself that I was not a bad-looking fellow. I was satisfied
that Emily did not think I was an ill-favored young man. We had some
pleasant walks at the places where we stopped.

I was very impatient for the arrival of Squire Fishley. I expected him
the day after we reached Riverport; but he did not come. In the evening
I went to the vicinity of the post-office, and had a view of Darky and
the wagon; but it was driven by a strange boy, who had been employed to
take my place. I did not care to be recognized by any one from
Torrentville; but as this boy did not know me, I ventured to go up and
pat my friend the black horse on the neck. The old fellow seemed to
know me, and whether he enjoyed the interview or not, I am sure I did.
While I was caressing the horse, the new boy came out of the office with
the mail-bag in his hand. He looked curiously at me, and seemed to
wonder how I happened to be on such good terms with his horse.

"What's the news up to Torrentville?" I asked.

"Nothing particular, as I know of," he replied, looking hard at me.

"Is Captain Fishley there now?"

"Yes."

"How's Ham?"

"First rate."

"How long have you driven the mail team?"

"Going on three weeks. You see the feller that drove it before robbed
the mail, and had to run away."

"Did he? What became of him?"

"That's what puzzles 'em. They can't git no clew to him. He cleared
about two months ago, and they hain't seen hide nor hair on him sence.
Do you know him?"

"Know whom?" I asked, startled by this direct question.

"Buck Bradford, the feller that robbed the mail and run away."

"Why do you ask?"

"O, nothin'; only the postmaster here told me to tell Captain Fishley
that a letter came here for Buck Bradford, and that a young feller took
it out. You haven't seen nothin' on him--have you?"

I did not choose to answer this question, and I edged off, without
making any reply. It appeared that I was generally known in Torrentville
as the mail robber, who had run away to escape the consequences of his
crime. The reflection galled me; but the day of redemption was at hand.
I did not quite like it that the postmaster had sent word of my presence
in Riverport to my tyrants; for I did not