“Ah!” said Jack, with thoughtful gravity. “Well, kindly give my love to your sister, will you?” “George Washington didn't have no sister,” said the boy, cunningly. “Can I have been mistaken?” said Hamlin, lifting his hand to his forehead with grieved accents. “Then it seems YOU have. Kindly give her my love.” “Which one?” asked the boy, with a swift glance of mischief. “I've got four.” “The one that's like you,” returned Hamlin, with prompt exactitude. “Now, where's the 'bresh' you spoke of?” “Keep along the edge until you come to the log-slide. Foller that, and it'll lead you into the woods. But ye won't go far, I tell ye. When you have to turn back, instead o' comin' back here, you kin take the trail that goes round the woods, and that'll bring ye out into the stage road ag'in near the post-office at the Green Springs crossin' and the new hotel. That'll be war ye'll turn up, I reckon,” he added, reflectively. “Fellers that come yer gunnin' and fishin' gin'rally do,” he concluded, with a half-inquisitive air. “Ah?” said Mr. Hamlin, quietly shedding the inquiry. “Green Springs Hotel is where the stage stops, eh?” “Yes, and at the post-office,” said the boy. “She'll be along here soon,” he added. “If you mean the Santa Cruz stage,” said Hamlin, “she's here already. I passed her on the ridge half an hour ago.” The boy gave a sudden start, and a quick uneasy expression passed over his face. “Go 'long with ye!” he said, with a forced smile: “it ain't her time yet.” “But I SAW her,” repeated Hamlin, much amused. “Are you expecting company? Hullo! Where are you off to? Come back.” But his companion had already vanished in the thicket with the undeliberate and impulsive act of an animal. There was a momentary rustle in the alders fifty feet away, and then all was silent. The hidden brook took up its monotonous murmur, the tapping of a distant woodpecker became suddenly audible, and Mr. Hamlin was again alone. “Wonder whether he's got parents in the stage, and has been playing truant here,” he mused, lazily. “Looked as if he'd been up to some devilment, or more like as if he was primed for it. If he'd been a little older, I'd have bet he was in league with some road-agents to watch the coach. Just my luck to have him light out as I was beginning to get some talk out of him.” He paused, looked at his watch, and straightened himself in his stirrups. “Four o'clock. I reckon I might as well try the woods and what that imp calls the 'bresh;' I may strike a shanty or a native by the way.”