One of the first to seek Cephas out was Nan Dorrington, and this was precisely what the young hero wanted. He was very cold and indifferent when Nan besought him to tell her all about his trip. How did he enjoy himself? and didn't he wish he was back at home many a time? And what did Paul and Jesse have to say? Ah, Cephas had his innings now! "I didn't see Paul and Jesse," replied Cephas, "and I didn't see Francis Bethune." "Did they have them hid?" asked Nan. "I don't know. The one I saw was in a black dungeon. I couldn't hardly see his face, and when I did see it, I was sorry I saw it." Cephas leaned back against the fence with the air of a fellow who has seen too much. Nan was dying to ask a hundred questions about the one Cephas had seen, but she resented his indifferent and placid attitude. All heroes are placid and indifferent when they discuss their deeds, but they wouldn't be if the public in general felt toward them as Nan felt toward Cephas. The only reason she didn't seize the little fellow and give him a good shaking was the fact that she was dying to hear all he had to say about his visit, and all about Gabriel. Gradually Cephas thawed out. One or the other had to surrender, and the small boy had no such incentive to silence as Nan had. His pride was not involved, whereas Nan would have gone to the rack and suffered herself to be pulled to pieces before she would have asked any direct questions about Gabriel. "I'm mighty sorry I went," said Cephas finally, and then he stopped short. "Why?" inquired Nan. "Oh, well--I don't know exactly. I thought I would find everybody just like they were before they went away, but the one I saw looked like a drove of mules had trompled on him. He didn't have on any coat, and his shirt was torn and dirty, and his face looked like he had been sick a month. His eyes were hollow, and had black circles around them." "Did he say anything?" asked Nan in a low tone. "Yes, he said, 'Brace up, old man.'" "Was that all?" "And then he asked if anybody had sent him any word, and I said, 'Nobody but Mr. Sanders'; and then he said, 'I might have known that he wouldn't forget me.'" Cephas could see Nan crushing her handkerchief in her hand, and he enjoyed it immensely. "Was he angry with any one?" Nan asked. "Why, when did anybody ever hear of his being angry with any one he thought was a friend?" exclaimed Cephas scornfully. Nan writhed at this, and Cephas went on. "He had been tied up by the wrists, and then he had been put in a sweat-box, and nearly roasted--yes, by grabs! pretty nigh cooked." "Why, you didn't tell his grandmother that," said Nan. "Well, I should say not!" exclaimed Cephas. "What do you take me for? Do you reckon I'd tell that to anybody that cared anything for him? Why, I wouldn't tell his grandmother that for anything in the world, and if she was to ask me about it, I'd deny it."