Jack, while pretending to leave the grounds, had kept a sly eye on Sam, and upon that individual's disappearance, at once turned and answered the child in a voice soft and gentle, and soothing as that of dreamy Italy. "Yous-a tink-a your-a papa was-a da here-a. What eesa da name?" "Thorpe!" replied Dorothy, without the faintest fear or hesitation. "That is my name, too. I want to find him right away. Can you tell me where he is? Mama sent me to ask him to come and dance." "Yes-a da child-a. Eesa da know where eesa papa be. Eef-a youse-a be note-a fraid and will-a come wid-a me, Eesa take-a youse-a da papa," and the sly old man looked into her eyes with such beaming kindness that at once won her confidence. "I'm not afraid of you. I like old men. Mama says we should respect old men. But I'm in such a hurry, you know. Mama is waiting for me." "Well, geeve-a me youse-a da hand and Eesa take-a you straight-a da heem." Without the least suspicion or timidity, she instantly placed her little hand in his and the two proceeded toward the river, much faster than his supposed crippled condition would lead an older person to expect. "Youse-a love-a da papa and da mama much-a, donn-a youse?" he continued. "Oh, yes! Ever so much." "Eesa good-a girl. We'll soon-a da fine eem," and he added to himself, "when the horn of plenty pours its golden stream into Jack's pocket." While they were crossing a depression, or rather a long hollow formation in the contour of the grassy slope, and close to some locust trees, the thick foliage of which threw a deep shadow on the spot, Jack thrust his free hand into his pocket and removed the stopper from a bottle of chloroform which he had provided for this occasion, and saturated a colored handkerchief with it. Some of it passed through the lining of his pocket and immediately impregnated the air with its odor. Dorothy got a whiff of it and drew away with the remark, "Dear me, what a funny smell!" "Naw, eesa--nicey da smell, jes like-a da poppy, so beautiful-a da flower," replied Jack, reassuringly. "Well, I don't like it, anyway," she said. At that moment she was standing a couple of yards from him, they had come to a halt, and it was necessary for him to act adroitly and with promptness, to reassure her and avoid arousing her suspicion, so he pretended to stumble and then fell to the ground. Arising to his knees, he groaned as though in seeming pain, and gripped his right wrist with his left hand. "Oh, oh! Eesa da hurt-a bad. Break-a da arm; oh, oh!" And in order to get her close to him, he said, "Get-a da bot' in-a da pock'." The cunning fellow knew well how to touch the chord of sympathy that is ever present in the guileless heart of innocent childhood. The response came in a wondering look of infinite tenderness and compassion, for the child did not clearly comprehend Jack's request and she asked: "Did you break your arm?"