The first of his three days of waiting had passed, when, about ten o'clock on the morning of the second day, which seemed very long in prospect, while driving along the road toward Clinton, he met Plato, with a rabbit trap in his hand.
"Well, Plato," he asked, "why are you absent from the classic shades of the academy to-day?"
"Hoddy, Mars Geo'ge. W'at wuz dat you say?"
"Why are you not at school to-day?"
"Ain' got no teacher, Mars Geo'ge. Teacher's gone!"
"Gone!" exclaimed Tryon, with a sudden leap of the heart. "Gone where? What do you mean?"
"Teacher got los' in de swamp, night befo' las', 'cause Plato wa'n't dere ter show her de way out'n de woods. Elder Johnson foun' 'er wid dawgs and tawches, an' fotch her home an' put her ter bed. No school yistiddy. She wuz out'n her haid las' night, an' dis mawnin' she wuz gone."
"Gone where?"
"Dey don' nobody know whar, suh."
Leaving Plato abruptly, Tryon hastened down the road toward Elder Johnson's cabin. This was no time to stand on punctilio. The girl had been lost in the woods in the storm, amid the thunder and lightning and the pouring rain. She was sick with fright and exposure, and he was the cause of it all. Bribery, corruption, and falsehood had brought punishment in their train, and the innocent had suffered while the guilty escaped. He must learn at once what had become of her. Reaching Elder Johnson's house, he drew up by the front fence and gave the customary halloa, which summoned a woman to the door.