It was dismal packing. I swore a good deal, softly. Gretchen was not in the dining-room when I came down to supper. It was just as well. I wanted to be cool and collected when I made my final adieu. After supper I lit my pipe (I shall be buried with it!) and went for a jaunt up the road. There was a train at six the next morning. I would leave on that. Why hadn't I taken Gretchen in my arms and kissed her? It would have been something to remember in the days to come. I was a man, and stronger; she would have been powerless. Perhaps it was the color of her eyes.
I had not gone up the highway more than 100 yards when I saw the lonely figure of a man tramping indirectly toward me and directly toward the inn. Even in the dusk of twilight there was something familiar about that stride. Presently the man lifted up his voice in song. The "second lead," as they say back of the scenes, was about to appear before the audience.
Evidently Hillars had found "Jericho" distasteful and had returned to protest.
CHAPTER XI
"Hello, there!" he hailed, seeing but not recognizing me; "have you seen any cavalry pass this way?"
"No, I have not," I answered in English.
"Eh? What's that?" not quite believing it was English he had heard.
"I said that no cavalry has passed this way since this afternoon. Are they looking for you, you jail-bird in perspective?"
He was near enough now. "Well, I be dam'!" he cried. "What the devil are you doing here, of all places?"
"I was looking for you," said I, locking my arm in his.