He had begun to unfasten his horse when a hand was placed upon his arm, and Virginia was smiling on him through her tears. “If I am not to see you again, I want to thank you once more for what you are doing for us.” “It is nothing,” he assured her. “Please don't think of it.” “But I do, I must, perhaps I am very cruel and heartless to allow you to go. If it was dangerous for them, it is equally dangerous for you. Suppose something should happen to you—I should have this to reproach myself with to the end of my days.” “But nothing will happen to me!” and he laughed confidently, but she regarded him with questioning gravity. It occurred to her that he was very young, and that perhaps she had taken advantage of this quality of youth, and generous enthusiasm. She felt a pang of remorse at the thought. “Please don't worry about me, Mrs. Landray,” he said. “Or I shall be quite desperate,” but he was too sane to misinterpret her interest; he accepted it at its full value; his vanity added nothing to it. But the next moment she had forgotten him. “You will not neglect to write?” she repeated anxiously. He understood the change, and, oddly enough was relieved by it. “No, Mrs. Landray, you shall hear from me as often as you could wish.” He held out his hand again. “Good-bye.” “Good-bye.” She stood watching him as he rode down the lane; and she was still watching him when he turned from the lane into the road. Benson was as good as his word. Just one week later he left by stage for Columbus. From there he went to Portsmouth, still by stage, where he took a fast river packet for St. Louis. Arrived at St. Louis he first established himself at a hotel and then hunted up Gibbs, whom he finally located in a dingy room over a grocery store. A sign announced it to be a “Printing Office,” and when he had mounted a long, and exceedingly steep flight of stairs, he found himself in a small room, furnished with a desk, two chairs, and a dictionary; while in a larger room that opened off from it were presses and tables. In the far corner of the larger room he descried an inky youth who was busy setting type; to him Benson made his presence known. “You want the colonel? Well, I'll have him here in no time.” And he stuck his head out of the open window at his elbow, and called to some one in the street below. “Hi, there! Just step round to the licker store in the next block and ask Colonel Gibbs to step this way! Gentleman wants to see him! It's right handy for him,” he explained to the lawyer. “So it's Colonel Gibbs?” said the latter smiling. “Yes, sir, Colonel Gibbs.” “Since when?” asked Benson. The youth seemed to regard this as an excellent joke. “I reckon he was born that way,” he answered facetiously. Here they were interrupted by a vociferous protest from the street, and the youth again stuck his head out of the window.