s of no interest to me."

"But it is, Wilks; listen to this now," and volubly the lawyer poured
forth the information and his suspicions concerning Mr. Rawdon. That
gentleman's ears would have tingled could he have heard the pleasant and
complimentary things that Coristine said about him.

The first clearing the pedestrians reached, after an hour's walk since
parting with Rufus, was a desolate looking spot. Some fallow fields were
covered with thistles, docks, fire-weed and stately mulleins, with, here
and there, an evening primrose, one or two of which the lawyer inserted
in his flower-press. There was hardly any ground under cultivation, and
the orchard bore signs of neglect. They saw a man in a barn painfully
rolling along a heavy cylindrical bundle which had just come off a
waggon. As they advanced to ask him the way, he left his work and came
to meet them, a being as unkempt as his farm, and with an unpleasant
light in his bloodshot eye.

"What are you two spyin' around fer at this time o' day, stead o'
tendin' to your work like the rest o' folks? Ef you want anything, speak
out, 'cause I've no time to be foolin' round."

"We were directed to ask you, sir, the way to the Beaver River," said
the dominie, politely. The man sulkily led them away out of view of the
barn, and then pointed out a footpath through his farm, which he said
would lead them to the highroad. As they were separating, Wilkinson
thanked the man, and Coristine asked him casually:--

"Do you happen to know if a Mr. Rawdon, who makes and sells grindstones,
has passed this way lately?"

"No," cried the sluggard farmer; "who says he has?" Then, in a quieter
tone, he continued: "I heern tell as he passed along the meetin'-house
way yesday. What do you want of Rawdon?"

"My friend, here, is a geologist, and so is that gentleman."

"Rawdon a geologist!" he cried again, with a coarse laugh. "Of course he
is; allers arter trap rock, galeny, quartz and beryl. O yes, he's a
geologist! Go right along that track there. Good day." Then he rapidly
retraced his steps towards the barn, as if fearful lest some new visitor
should interrupt him before his task was completed.

"It may be smuggling," said the lawyer, "but it's liquid of some kind,
for that dilapidated granger has given his friend away. What do
hayseeds know about galena, quartz and beryl? These are Grinstun's
little mineralogical jokes for gallon, quart and barrel, and trap rock
is another lit