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"No, he not come back yet, but he soon come, an' den you see," he answered, looking very mysterious. At length, one evening, I met him running towards the house in a state of great excitement. "Wha'r Massa Denis?" he asked; "me tinkee me got b'ar for him now. Wha'r is he?" For a wonder, he was in the house, as was Dan; so I called them both.
"When you had this lovely new cage and everything you wanted!" "No, he hadn't," said Dan, conscious of a sudden sympathy with his feathered prisoner. "He has wings and wants to use them." "But he couldn't find seed or chickweed for himself, and the cats and hawks would have had him before morning. Oh, I'm so glad to get him back safe I don't know how to thank you for catching him for me!"
"You can trust Grey Molly to me, Vic," said Dan, standing at the head of the gray mare. "I'll keep her as safe as if she was Satan." Gregg watched her almost sadly. He had always taken a rather childish pride in her fierceness. She knew him as a dog knows its master and he had always been the only one who could handle her readily in the saddle.
In fact, all through the seven counties I traversed Tuolumne, Calaveras, Amador, El Dorado, Placer, Nevada and Yuba I found Bret Harte had left but a hazy and nebulous impression. Mark Twain, Prentice Mulford, Horace Greeley, Bayard Taylor, even "Dan de Quille," seemed better known. The next morning I started for Sonora.
The contrivance, rude as it was, proved effectual, for it stopped the bleeding, but Dan could not help feeling that he had already lost so much blood that he was reduced almost to the last stage of exhaustion, and that another hour or two would probably see the close of his earthly career.
Greene was too weak to risk a battle, and made a masterly retreat of two hundred miles before Cornwallis, escaping across the Dan only twelve hours ahead of the enemy. The moment the British moved away, Greene recrossed the river and hung upon their rear. For a month he kept in their neighborhood, checking the rising of the Tories, and declining battle.
I belong to the partisan rangers, and we'll cut through to Johnston's army before daylight. If not, we'll take to the mountains and keep up the war forever. The country is ours, what's to hinder us?" He spoke passionately, and at each sharp exclamation the black horse rose on his haunches and pawed the air. Dan shook his head.
He won nothing during the match, while Dan, to his father's great disgust, came in for one of the first prizes a fine quarter of beef. When the shooting-match was over, the father and son returned to the little hovel they called home.
Dropping the board they were carrying, they ran like deer to the house, and Dan told his father what they had seen. The Goodman looked thoughtful as he went on with his task of sheathing, and that very evening he worked late building a secret closet between the chimney and the wall.
Buck drew a chair close, with his back half towards the fire. "Turn around a little, Kate," he cautioned. "Don't let Dan see your face." She obeyed him automatically. "Is there a hope, Buck? What have I done to deserve this? I don't want to live; I want to die! I want to die!" "Steady, steady!" he cut in, and his face was working. "If you keep on like this you'll bust down in a minute or two.
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