"Lebnum, young marster, if you please! Lebnum!—w'ich dere is no paff an' no way o' gettin' to de top o' dis wes' range, jes' 'cause 'tis too orful steep; but ef you go 'bout fo' mile up de road, you'd come to a paff leadin' zigzag, wall o' Troy like, up to Siffier's Roos'."
"Zephyr's—what?"
"Roos', marster. Yes, sar. W'ich so 'tis call 'cause she usen to roos' up dar, jes' like ole turkey buzzard. W'en you get up dar, you can see ober free States. Yes, sar, 'cause dat p'ints w'ere de p'ints o' boundy lines ob free States meets—yes, sah!"
"I think I will take a walk to that point. I suppose I can find the path?"
"You can't miss it, sah, if you keeps a sharp look-out. About fo' miles up, sah"
"Very well. Shall you be here when I come back?"
"No, sah. Dis ain't my stoppin' place; t'other side is. But I'll be on de watch dere, and ef you holler for me, I'll come. I'll come anyways, 'cause I'll be sure to see you."
"Quite so," said the duke, as he sauntered up that very road between the foot of the mountain and the bank of the river down which the festive crowd had come on Corona Haught's fatal wedding day.
An hour's leisurely walk brought him to the first cleft in the rock.
From the back of this the path ascended, with many a double, to the wooded shelf on which old Scythia's hut had once stood—hidden. When he reached the spot he found nothing but charred logs, blasted trees, and ashes, as if the spot had been wasted by fire.