"No," said Marco, "I don't believe there is any stage from this old mill. Besides, I don't know where to go. I should not have thought that Forester would have gone off and left me."
"Was he on board the steamboat?" asked the boy.
"Yes," said Marco—"that is, he was to go on board—but I left him at the tavern."
"Perhaps he is there now," said the boy. "Let us go and see."
Marco approved of this plan, and they turned the wagon, and rode towards the tavern. As soon as the horse stopped in the yard, Marco leaped out of the wagon, and ran in. He found Forester reclining upon the sofa, where Marco had left him, asleep.
Marco advanced towards him, and took him by the shoulder, roughly, to wake him up, saying,
"Forester! cousin Forester! wake up! the boat has gone."
Forester opened his eyes—looked wildly at Marco, and then put his hands to his head, pressing his temples with the palms, but he did not speak.
"The boat has gone, cousin Forester," continued Marco.
"Then what good does it do to wake me up so roughly?" asked Forester.