It was now day, and still the priest had not made his appearance. Bart wondered at this, and attributed it to his oversleeping himself. This made him feel somewhat impatient, and he thought hardly of the priest for yielding to his drowsiness at such a time as this, when it was a question of life and death; but he waited, and checked a rising impulse which he had to hunt up the priest’s bedroom and wake him. While he was fretting and fuming, the two French guides had placidly seated themselves on the doorstep in a line with Solomon, and began to smoke, chatting with one another in French. Suddenly Bart heard footsteps behind him. He thought it was the priest, and turned hastily. It was not the priest, however, but Pat. Bart had actually forgotten Pat’s existence ever since that moment on the previous evening, when he had gone out doors to look for him, and had seen that terrible appearance over the forest trees. As he now recognized him, he wondered at his long absence, and noticed at the same time that Pat looked very much agitated. At once he thought that Pat had heard bad news, and had come to tell him. This idea was so terrible that he stood paralyzed, and could scarcely utter a word. Pat came up and gave a heavy sigh. “It’s dhreadful--it’s terrible. Och, wurrooooo!” Bart looked at him with an awful face, not daring to ask the question that was upon his lips, and now feeling sure that Pat had heard the worst. “Och, what’ll we iver do?” cried Pat; “what’ll we iver do? Sure an me heart’s fairly broke widin me, so it is.” “How did you find it out?” asked Bart, in a trembling voice. “Sure an wasn’t it the praste himself that tould me,” said Pat, in a tone of voice that sounded like a wail of despair. “The priest?” said Bart. “You saw him then--did you. Where--where is he?” “The praste,” said Pat, dolefully; “sorra one o’ me knows. I seen him dhrivin off. I wor sleepin undher a tray behind the fince. I wasn’t goin to thrust mesilf in their leper houses, so I wasn’t.” “You saw him. P--he has gone, has he--gone--to--to--to see about it,” stammered Bart, feverishly; “and what did he tell you?” “Tell me?” said Pat, dubiously. “Yes. You said you saw him.” “So I did.” “Well--what did he say about it?” “Sure an he didn’t say anythin jist thin.” “But he told you about it, you said.” “So he did; but it was last night.” “O, in the night--you saw him in the night--he must have been out then--and I thought he was in bed. O, why wasn’t I with him? Why didn’t he take me? But I suppose he thought I’d be too much overcome, and so he didn’t want to tell me--and did he tell you this, Pat? Tell me all. Tell me all--don’t keep me in suspense.” At these incoherent words Pat stared at Bart in utter amazement, and for a moment thought that he had lost his senses.