“Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. A cry was then raised by the leaders to attack Wild's house, and the fury of the mob was instantly directed to that quarter. Would there be enough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotel bill—and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home? So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting this young fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon his journey. "Not a syllable!" answered the carpenter, angrily. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them.
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