"Fire? No, of course not; thank you, all the same," laughed Roland, as he followed the negro man upstairs to the room assigned him. Roland was wholesomely tired, for he had been traveling on horseback or on foot for nearly forty-eight hours; nevertheless, he waited up until he heard the house closed for the night. Then, when all the calling up and down stairs, the walking back and forth along the passages, the banging of doors and the clattering down of windows had ceased, and the lights were out and the premises were dark and quiet, Roland went to bed and went to sleep. He slept the sound, deep, dreamless sleep of youth, health and fatigue. It was quite late in the morning when he awoke. The sun was gleaming in golden needles through the interstices of his window shutters. For a moment he did not know where he was, or how he had come into the strange room. In another instant he recollected himself and his errand. He jumped out of bed and threw open the window shutters. It was very cold, and there was no fire, and the water on the washstand had a thin layer of ice over it. But Roland did not ring for a waiter to bring either fuel or hot water, for he was inured to hardships and accustomed to waiting on himself. He broke the ice in his ewer, washed his face and hands, wiped and rubbed them with a coarse, crash towel until they shone and glowed, then put on his clothes, and hurried downstairs and into the bar. There was no one in it at that hour but the bartender and a negro boy. "Good-morning," said the former. "You are late this morning. Fatigued and overslept yourself, perhaps." "Yes. Did Col. Anglesea return last night?" "He did. He came in about an hour after the house was closed. Pete opened the door for him." "And--where is he now? Can I see him at once, do you think?" eagerly inquired Roland. "I don't suppose you can see him at once, for Heaven only knows where he is. He took breakfast at sunrise, and went off in a buggy, saying that he should not return to-night." "Oh-h-h-h!" exclaimed Roland, with a perfect howl of disappointment. "And he has gone?" "Yes, gone." "Where? Where?" "He did not say; so we do not know." "When will he be back?" "He said that he should not return to-night; further than that we do not know." "Oh, why did you not have me called? Why did you not detain him and send for me?" demanded Roland, in the tone of a deeply injured individual. "My dear fellow, I did not happen to see the colonel, or hear of him, until after he was gone. The head waiter had charge of him, and gave the message he left for the house," mildly pleaded the bartender. "Oh-h-h! what a disappointment!" cried Roland, leaving the bar to go in search of the head waiter. He found that functionary in the public dining room, and questioned him closely in regard to the movements of Col. Anglesea; but the head waiter could only repeat the message left with him by the colonel; and this, of course, threw no new light on the subject.