"What might be her name, now—that is, if you have no objection to telling me."
"Certainly not," laughed Waring. "She is from the same village that I have left; and her name is Virginia: daughter of Mr. George Lander. Anything else that I can impart?"
"You are bound to the settlement, down the river, I suppose?"
"I have hinted as much; yes, that is our destination."
Hezekiah paused at this point, as he seemed to have run out of questions, seeing which, Pat Mulroony whispered—
"Begorrah, ye isn't going to sthop in this place, be yees?"
The querulous New Englander placed the stock of his rifle a few inches from his feet, and holding his arms over the muzzle, seemed to be engaged in a deep study for a few moments. Suddenly, slinging his right leg around the other, so that it rested upon the tip of the foot, he turned his beaming face toward Waring, and continued—
"Is the gal good-looking, now?"
Waring laughed outright.
"You shall be the judge, if you only wait a few minutes."