“Where did he go, do you know?” asked the gentleman, while the lady’s eyes dropped wearily.
“Nobody knows—only been gone a day or two,” replied the colonel.
The colonel had a well-developed heart, and, relying on what he considered the correct idea of Jim Hockson’s mission, ventured to say:
“He’ll be back in a day or two—left all his things.”
Suddenly Weasel raised his diminutive voice, and said:
“The detec——”
The determined grip of the colonel’s hand interrupted the communication which Weasel attempted to make, and the colonel hastily remarked:
“Ther’s a feller gone for him that’s sure to fetch him back.”
“Who—who is it?” asked the young lady, hesitatingly.
“Well, ma’am,” said the colonel, “as yer father—I s’pose, leastways—said, ’tain’t much use to give names in this part of the world, but the name he’s goin’ by is Jim Hockson.”