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Chapter 2

           "Iamsorry,MrPoindexter,Icannotstaytoconductyou,Iamridingexpress,withadespatchfortheFort.Ifyoushouldlosemytrail,keepthesunonyourrightshoulders:sothatyourshadowsmayfalltotheleft,atanangleofaboutfifteendegreestoyourlineofmarch.Gostraightforwardforaboutfivemiles.Youwillthencomeinsightofthetopofatalltree—acypress.Youwillknowitbyitsleavesbeinginthered.Headdirectforthistree.Itstandsonthebankoftheriver;andclosebyisthecrossing."

           Theyounghorseman,oncemoredrawinguphisreins,wasabouttorideoff;whensomethingcausedhimtolinger.Itwasapairofdarklustrouseyes—observedbyhimforthefirsttime—glancingthroughthecurtainsofthetravellingcarriage.

           Theirownerwasinshadow;buttherewaslightenoughtoshowthattheyweresetinacountenanceofsurpassingloveliness.Heperceived,moreover,thattheywereturneduponhimself—fixed,ashefancied,inanexpressionthatbetokenedinterest—almosttenderness!

           Hereturneditwithaninvoluntaryglanceofadmiration,whichhemadebutanawkwardattempttoconceal.Lestitmightbemistakenforrudeness,hesuddenlyfacedround;andoncemoreaddressedhimselftotheplanter—whohadjustfinishedthankinghimforhiscivility.

           "Iambutilldeservingthanks,"washisrejoinder,"thustoleaveyouwithachanceoflosingyourway.But,asI’vetoldyou,mytimeismeasured."

           Thedespatch-bearerconsultedhiswatch—asthoughnotalittlereluctanttotravelalone.

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