Inwood laughed at the look of his sable friend, as he gazed about him, as if he did not understand the meaning of all this.
“Where is your man?” he asked.
“Gracious! I don’t know; wonder if I didn’t mash him down into de ground,” he said, stepping to one side and reviewing the huge footprints which he had made in the sod. “He ain’t dere! wonder where he went?”
“I suspect he hasn’t been there at all. You must have been mistaken, Jim. Are there any other footprints?”
After strict search they failed to find any, and Inwood was satisfied of Jim’s mistake, although the latter was loth to admit it.
“Now,” said Inwood, “I am going to find out all I can about matters and things. If you choose you can go home, or you can remain here.”
“If it’s all de same to you, I tinks I’ll retire,” said Jim, displaying considerable eagerness to get out of the immediate neighborhood. Inwood watched him until he disappeared from view as he went crouching among the rocks and hills back to his hiding place.
It was now near nightfall, and our young friend deemed it best to make himself invisible until he could reconnoitre with safety in the darkness. In this wild, rocky country, it was easy to find a secure hiding place, and this he did, first satisfying himself that he was not watched in his manœuvres.
Night finally descended upon mountain and lake, and when it was fully dark, Inwood crept cautiously forth, and approached the edge of the water. The moon did not rise until late, and he was sure that if any sentinel was on guard, he had not detected his approach. He had come upon the lake at a point several hundred yards removed from the point where the canon debouched into it, and he sat down for a few moments to meditate upon the best thing to do.
As he sat and listened, he was sure he heard a faint rippling out upon the lake near the point where he could just make out the dark outlines of the island looming up in the distance; but the gloom prevented his discovering anything more. Behind and around him was darkness, and in that solemn moment, George Inwood (naturally devout and thoughtful) lifted up his heart to the great Being above the stars, and sat for a time in blissful communion, such as the men of the world can never know.