He well knew the road that Weenah and Leeboo--no, let us call her Peggy once more--would take, if indeed they should succeed in escaping.
He walked towards the river of Bitter Waters therefore, and, journeying for some miles along its wild romantic banks, lay down to wait.
Wild flowers trailed and climbed among the bushes where he hid; he saw not their bright colours, he was scarcely sensible of their perfume.
The soo-soo's song was sweet and plaintive; he heard it not.
He was wholly absorbed in thought. So the sun got higher and higher, and still he waited and watched--waited and hoped.
Only, ever and anon he would place his ear against the hard ground and listen intently.
'Twas noon, and they came not.
Something must have happened. Everything must have failed.
What should he do? What could he do?
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