a smooth and keen rascal as he was assured the Tory Russell was.
The early part of his journey was uneventful. Not even did he stop when a heavy thunder shower occurred near nightfall; but he was nevertheless rejoiced when soon after the skies had cleared he found himself near a farmhouse where he had been directed to stop for the night.
It was nearly noon of the third day when he beheld near the road before him the tavern of Jacob Gunning, and he quickened his pace as he gazed alertly all about him. But the peaceful summer day gave no sign of danger. A haze rested on the valley below, the metallic sounds of the locusts were heard in all directions, and the changing tints of the foliage added a coloring to the quiet scene. Not a person could be seen about the tavern as Robert rode up in front of the piazza, and even his hail at first received no response.
Dismounting, he led his horse by the bridle toward the open door of the barn, but he had not entered when Jacob Gunning himself appeared and without a word gazed at the new-comer. In appearance the landlord was even more lanky than when Robert had last seen him, and somehow it seemed to the young
