The boat was not there. Indeed, he had not expected to find it after what old Lebanon had told him. It was too obscure in the valley to permit him to see across the river, so he shouted: "Boat!" "All wight, young marster, but needn't split your t'roat nor my brain pan, nider! I can hear you! I's coming!" came the voice from mid-stream, for the old ferryman was already half across the river with a chance passenger. In a few minutes more the boat grated upon the shore and the passenger jumped out, tipped his hat to the duke, and hurried up the river road toward North End. "Dat pusson were Mr. Thomas Rylan', fust foreman ober all de founderies. Dere's a many foremen, but he be de fust. Come down long ob de ole mars dis arternoon arter some 'counts, I reckon, an' now gone back wid a big bundle ob papers an' doc'ments. Yes, sah. Get in. I's ready to start," said the ferryman, as he cleared a seat in the stern of the boat for the accommodation of the passenger. "Who used to live in that hut on the mountain before it was burned down?" inquired the duke as he took his seat. "Ole Injun 'oman named Siffier." "Where did she come from?" "Dunno dat nudder. Nobody dunno." "Can't you tell me something about such a strange person who lived right here in your neighborhood?" "Look yere, marster, leas' said soones' mended where she's 'cerned. I can't tell you on'y but jes' dis: She 'peared yere 'bout twenty year ago, or mo'. She built dat dere hut wid her own han's, an' she use to make baskets an' brackets an' sich, an' fetch 'em roun' to de people to sell. She made 'em out'n twigs an' ornimented 'em wid red rose berries an' hollies an' sich, an' mighty purty dey was, an' de young gals liked 'em, dey did. An' she made her libbin outen de money she got for her wares. She use to tell fortins too; an' folks did say as she tole true, an' some did say as she had a tell-us-man ring w'ich, when she wore it, she could see inter de futur; but Lor', young marse, dey was on'y supercilly young idiwuts as b'leibed dat trash! But she nebber would take no money for tellin' fortins--nebber!--w'ich was curous. De berry day as de gubner-leck was missin' ob, she wanished too. When de cons'able went to 'rest her, he foun' her gone an' de hut burnt up. Now, yere we is, young marse, at de lan'in', an' you can get right out yere 'dout wettin' your feet," said the old ferryman, as he pushed the boat up to the dry end of the wharf. The passenger astonished the old ferryman by putting a quarter of an eagle in his hand, and then sprang from the boat and ran up the avenue leading toward the house. There was no light visible from the windows of the mansion. The dinner party was a strictly private family affair, and nothing but the solitary lamp at the head of the avenue appeared to guide the pedestrian's steps through the darkness of the newly fallen night. He reached the house, and was admitted by the old servant.