yed by the persistent old fellow.

"From New York?" he hazarded cheerfully.

"No," answered Reyburn, turning to go. "You must excuse me. I'm in a
hurry."

"That's all right," said Bi contentedly. "I'll walk a piece with you. I
was lookin' fer a doctor to take down to see a sick child. A doctor from
New York. You ain't by any chance a doctor, are you?" Bi eyed the big
leather bag inquiringly.

"No," said Reyburn, laughing in spite of his annoyance. "I'm only a
lawyer." And with a bound he cleared the curb and hurried off down the
street, having now recognized the direction described in Jane's diagram
of Tinsdale.

Abijah Gage looked after him with twinkling eyes of dry mirth, and
slowly sauntered after him, watching him until he entered the little
unpainted gate of the Carson house and tapped at the old gray door. Then
Bi lunged across the street and entered a path that ran along the
railroad track for a few rods, curving suddenly into a stretch of vacant
lots. On a convenient fence rail with a good outlook toward the west end
of the village he ensconced himself and set about whittling a whistle
from some willow stalks. He waited until he saw Bobbie Carson hurry off
toward Hathaway's house and return with Lizzie Hope; waited hopefully
until the stranger finally came out of the house again, touching his hat
gracefully to the girl as she stood at the open door. Then he hurried
back to the station again, and was comfortably settled on a tub of
butter just arrived by freight, when Reyburn reached there. He was much
occupied with his whistle, and never seemed to notice, but not a
movement of the stranger escaped him, and when the Philadelphia express
came by, and the stranger got aboard the parlor car, old Bi Gage swung
his lumbering length up on the back platform of the last car. The hounds
were hot on the trail now.

It was several years since Bi Gage had been on so long a journey, but he
managed to enjoy the trip, and kept in pretty good touch with the parlor
car, although he was never in evidence. If anybody had told Warren
Reyburn as he let himself into his apartment late that night that he was
being followed, he would have laughed and told them it was an
impossibility. When he came out to the street the next morning and swung
himself into a car that would land him at his office, he did not see the
lank flabby figure of the toothless Bi standing just across the block,
and keeping tab on him from the back platform,