“They might have shot me,” said Brown, sullenly.
“I prevented that, and gave you timely warning. Of course it's a disappointment, but we shall have better luck next time.”
“They've got away.”
“Yes, but I propose to keep track of Melville and the boy, and have my revenge upon them in time. I don't care so much about the money, but they have foiled me, and they must suffer for it. Meanwhile, I want your help in another plan.”
The two conferred together, and mutual confidence was re-established.
CHAPTER XXIX. A NEW HOME IN THE WOODS.
George Melville had no definite destination. He was traveling, not for pleasure, but for health, and his purpose was to select a residence in some high location, where the dry air would be favorable for his pulmonary difficulties.
A week later he had found a temporary home. One afternoon Herbert and he, each on horseback, for at that time public lines of travel were fewer than at present, came suddenly upon a neat, one-story cottage in the edge of the forest. It stood alone, but it was evidently the home of one who aimed to add something of the graces of civilization to the rudeness of frontier life.
They reined up simultaneously, and Melville, turning to Herbert, said: “There, Herbert, is my ideal of a residence. I should not be satisfied with a rude cabin. There I should find something of the comfort which we enjoy in New England.”