He had not seemed to care to talk of himself. He had merely said that his horse had thrown him, and that he had lain in the grass for some time before he was found. He was quiet, had good manners, and used good language. He said that his name was John Edwards. He seemed deeply grateful for all kindness shown him, but was plainly anxious to be well enough to be on his way again. Mr. Hartley, however, had won his promise to remain till he himself returned from the round-up. All the young people did their best to make the injured man's time pass as pleasantly as possible; and very often one or another of them might be found reading to him, or playing a game of checkers or chess with him. It was on such an occasion that Cordelia Wilson, at the conclusion of a game of checkers, found the courage to say something that had long been on her mind. "Mr. Edwards, do--do you know Texas very well?" The man smiled a little. "Well, Miss Cordelia, Texas is rather large, you know." Cordelia sighed almost impatiently. "Dear me! I--I wish every one wouldn't always say that," she lamented. "It's so discouraging!" "Dis--couraging?" "Yes--when you're trying to find some one." "Oh! And are you trying to find some one?" "Yes, sir; four some ones." "Well, I should think that might be difficult--in Texas, unless you know where they are," smiled the man. "I don't; and that's what's the matter," sighed Cordelia. "That's why I was going to ask you, to see if you didn't know, perhaps." "Ask _me_?" "Yes. That is, if you had been around any--in Texas. You see I ask everybody, almost. I have to," she apologized a little wistfully. "And even then it looks as if I should have to go back to Sunbridge without finding one of them. And I'd so hate to do that!" The man started visibly. "Go back--where?" "To Sunbridge." "Sunbridge--?" "Sunbridge, New Hampshire; home, you know." An odd expression crossed the man's face. "No--I didn't know," he said, after a moment. "Why, didn't any of us ever tell you we were from the East?" cried Cordelia. "Oh, yes, lots of times. But you never happened to mention the town before, I think." "Why, how funny!" murmured Cordelia. The man did not speak. He seemed to have fallen into a reverie. Cordelia stirred restlessly in her seat. "Did you say you would help me?" she asked at last, timidly. "Help you?" The man seemed to have forgotten what she had been speaking of. "Help me to find them, you know--those people I'm looking for." "Why, of course," laughed the man, easily. "Who are--" He stopped abruptly. For the second time an odd expression crossed his face. "Are they--Sunbridge people?" he asked, stooping to pick up a dried leaf from the gallery floor. "Yes, Mr. Edwards. There are four of them--three men and one woman. They are John Sanborn, Lester Goodwin, James Hunt, and Mrs. Lizzie Higgins. Maybe you know some of them. Do you?"