I drew the surgeon towards the door, round which the other negroes had remained all the time in perfect silence, and asked him in a low tone if it would not be better to have the man's deposition taken down, as he evidently believed himself to be dying. "What's the use of his deposition?" asked the surgeon drily. "Don't you know a negro can't testify against a white man? His voice will be quite as powerful in the grave as when he is living. But I think he will do well. These negroes always think they will die when anything is the matter." No good could be done by staying; and deeper interest called me away. "Can any of you show me the way to Mr. William Thornton's house?" I asked, speaking generally to the little crowd without. "Here's de nigger who can," said an active young negro springing forward. "We'll soon catch up de sheriff. He not long gone. I can run all de way. I wish I hab a gun," he continued, looking at the one which was strapped across my shoulders. "I shoot Bob Thornton wid all my heart." "Well, come along," I said, with feelings too much akin to his own to reprove him for his sanguinary wishes. "Take the shortest way, and never mind wide paths or narrow; we'll force our way through." On he bounded like a deer, without care of brambles or thorns, of rough places or swamps; and, to say truth, though he was on foot, and I was on horseback, I had a good deal of difficulty to keep up with him. The way was rather long; and the by-paths he took did not strike a wider road, for at least five miles; but when we had gained the more open way, we almost immediately found ourselves in the presence of the sheriff, with a considerable party of white men, and two or three blacks. Amongst the rest, I instantly recognized Robert Thornton, very pale, but apparently quite convalescent. There was an elder man, whom I took to be his father, from the strong personal resemblance, though the latter was thin, fox-faced, and eager-looking, with that peculiar, quick, and hungry aspect which I have never seen except in men who have spent a life and employed all their energies in a fruitless pursuit of wealth by cunning and dirty means--a look of shrewd activity, rendered almost fierce by disappointment. Behind, with handcuffs on them, were the two Irishmen whom I remembered well to have seen with Robert Thornton when he was attempting to carry off aunt Bab's servants. The rest were men whom I did not know. The moment the sheriff perceived me, he drew up his horse, and said,-- "I am sorry to tell you, Sir Richard, Miss Davenport is certainly not there, although we had every reason to believe that she was. I had not, indeed, time to pursue my inquiries as far as I could wish; for my other duties call me to Jerusalem as fast as possible. But I searched every room and every cabin round the house; and, whether she has been there or not, she is not there now."