"How many trips do you make in a day?" inquired the fare. "Pen's 'pon how many people is a-comin' an' goin'. Some days I don't make no trip at all. Oder days, w'en dere's a weddin' or a fun'al, I makes many as fifty." The passage was soon made, and the duke stepped out on the west bank. "Is there any path leading to the top of this ridge, Uncle--Lemuel?" inquired the duke. "Lebnum, young marster, if you please! Lebnum!--w'ich dere is no paff an' no way o' gettin' to de top o' dis wes' range, jes' 'cause 'tis too orful steep; but ef you go 'bout fo' mile up de road, you'd come to a paff leadin' zigzag, wall o' Troy like, up to Siffier's Roos'." "Zephyr's--what?" "Roos', marster. Yes, sar. W'ich so 'tis call 'cause she usen to roos' up dar, jes' like ole turkey buzzard. W'en you get up dar, you can see ober free States. Yes, sar, 'cause dat p'ints w'ere de p'ints o' boundy lines ob free States meets--yes, sah!" "I think I will take a walk to that point. I suppose I can find the path?" "You can't miss it, sah, if you keeps a sharp look-out. About fo' miles up, sah" "Very well. Shall you be here when I come back?" "No, sah. Dis ain't my stoppin' place; t'other side is. But I'll be on de watch dere, and ef you holler for me, I'll come. I'll come anyways, 'cause I'll be sure to see you." "Quite so," said the duke, as he sauntered up that very road between the foot of the mountain and the bank of the river down which the festive crowd had come on Corona Haught's fatal wedding day. An hour's leisurely walk brought him to the first cleft in the rock. From the back of this the path ascended, with many a double, to the wooded shelf on which old Scythia's hut had once stood--hidden. When he reached the spot he found nothing but charred logs, blasted trees, and ashes, as if the spot had been wasted by fire. A ray of dazzling light darted from the ashes at his feet. In some surprise he stooped to ascertain the cause, and picked up a ring; examined it curiously; found it to be set with a diamond of rare beauty and great value. Then in sudden amazement he turned to the reverse side of the golden cup that clasped the gem and saw a monogram. "I thought so," he muttered to himself; "I thought that there was not another such a peculiar setting to any gem in the world but that; and now the monogram proves it beyond the shadow of a doubt to be the same. But how in the name of wonder should the lost talisman be found here--in the ashes of some charcoal burner's hut?" With these words he took out and opened his pocket-book and carefully placed the ring in its safest fold, closed and returned the book to his pocket, and arose and left the spot. The duke turned to descend the mountain. At length, however, he reached the foot, and then, under the shadow of the ridge that threw the whole narrow valley into premature twilight, he hurried to the ferry.