you mean?"

"Teacher got los' in de swamp, night befo' las', 'cause Plato wa'n't
dere ter show her de way out'n de woods. Elder Johnson foun' 'er wid
dawgs and tawches, an' fotch her home an' put her ter bed. No school
yistiddy. She wuz out'n her haid las' night, an' dis mawnin' she wuz
gone."

"Gone where?"

"Dey don' nobody know whar, suh."

Leaving Plato abruptly, Tryon hastened down the road toward Elder
Johnson's cabin. This was no time to stand on punctilio. The girl had
been lost in the woods in the storm, amid the thunder and lightning and
the pouring rain. She was sick with fright and exposure, and he was
the cause of it all. Bribery, corruption, and falsehood had brought
punishment in their train, and the innocent had suffered while the
guilty escaped. He must learn at once what had become of her. Reaching
Elder Johnson's house, he drew up by the front fence and gave the
customary halloa, which summoned a woman to the door.

"Good-morning," he said, nodding unconsciously, with the careless
politeness of a gentleman to his inferiors. "I'm Mr. Tryon. I have
come to inquire about the sick teacher."

"Why, suh," the woman replied respectfully, "she got los' in de woods
night befo' las', an' she wuz out'n her min' most er de time yistiddy.
Las' night she must 'a' got out er bed an' run away w'en eve'ybody wuz
soun' asleep, fer dis mawnin' she wuz gone, an' none er us knows whar
she is."

"Has any search been made for her?"

"Yas, suh, my husban' an' de child'en has been huntin' roun' all de
mawnin', an' he's gone ter borry a hoss now ter go fu'ther. But Lawd
knows dey ain' no tellin' whar she'd go, 'less'n she got her min' back
sence she lef'."

Tryon's mare was in good condition. He had money in his pocket and
nothing to interfere with his movements. He set out immediately on the
road to Patesville, keeping a lookout by the roadside, and stopping
each person he met to inquire if a young woman, apparently ill, had
been seen traveling along the road on foot. No one had met such a
traveler. When he had gone two or three miles, he drove through a
shallow branch that crossed the road. The splashing of his horse's
hoofs in the water prevented him from hearing a low groan that came
from the woods by the roadside.

He drove on, making inquiries at each farmhouse and of every person
whom he encountered. Shortly after crossing the branch, he met a young
negro with a cartload of tubs and buckets a