trailing in the dust, came Nicholas Temple. He stopped before the
house and stared at me with a fine insolence, and I wondered whether I
myself had not been too hasty in reclaiming him. A greeting died on my
lips.

"Well, sir," he said, "so you are the gentleman who has been dogging me
all day."

"I dog no one, Mr. Temple," I replied bitterly.

"We'll not quibble about words," said he. "Would it be impertinent to
ask your business--and perhaps your name?"

"Did not Mr. Wright give you my name?" I exclaimed.

"He might have mentioned it, I did not hear. Is it of such importance?"

At that I lost my temper entirely.

"It may be, and it may not," I retorted. "I am David Ritchie."

He changed before my eyes as he stared at me, and then, ere I knew it,
he had me by both arms, crying out:--

"David Ritchie! My Davy--who ran away from me--and we were going to
Kentucky together. Oh, I have never forgiven you,"--the smile that there
was no resisting belied his words as he put his face close to mine--"I
never will forgive you. I might have known you--you've grown, but I vow
you're still an old man,--Davy, you renegade. And where the devil did
you run to?"

"Kentucky," I said, laughing.

"Oh, you traitor--and I trusted you. I loved you, Davy. Do you remember
how I clung to you in my sleep? And when I woke up, the world was black.
I followed your trail down the drive and to the cross-roads--"

"It was not ingratitude, Nick," I said; "you were all I had in the
world." And then I faltered, the sadness of that far-off time coming
over me in a flood, and the remembrance of his generous sorrow for me.

"And how the devil did you track me to the Widow Brown's?" he demanded,
releasing me.

"A Mr. Jackson had a shrewd notion you were there. And by the way, he
was in a fine temper because you had skipped a race with him."

"That sorrel-topped, lantern-headed Mr. Jackson?" said Nick. "He'll be
killed in one of his fine tempers. Damn a man who can't keep his temper.
I'll race him, of course. And where are you bound now, Davy?"

"For Louisville, in Kentucky, at the Falls of the Ohio. It is a growing
place, and a promising one for a young man in the legal profession to
begin life."

"When do you leave?" said he.

"To-morrow morning, Nick," said I. "You wanted once to go to Kentucky;
why not come with me?"

His face clouded.

"I do not budge from this town," said he, "I do not budge until I hear
that Jack Sevier is safe