“It’s the highwayman’s pine,” he almost shouted; “they say a man was hanged there a hundred years ago. But I’ll take my oath you’ve never been there. How do you know the place?”
“I s-saw it,” faltered Dennis, and having thus betrayed his evil-doing he swung forward and fainted. When he recovered he was lying on a sofa and March was pouring water on his face.
“Lie still,” he said kindly. “Don’t be frightened. You must have been dreaming, you know. I—I think I’ll go to this place you dreamed of. It is superstition, of course, but er—er——”
March called a maid to tend the child; then he summoned the men who had been searching through the day and led them on another quest. This time they found the missing lad. He was insensible and his leg was broken.
The next day the doctor spoke gravely of the condition of his patient. “I am very much afraid his condition is serious,” he said. “If he had been cared for at once recovery would have been quite certain; but he has been lying there half-stunned and without food, drink, or care four days and nights.”
March did not speak; possessed by a sudden thought he sought his nephew.
“Dennis, child,” he said, “when did you first see the place where we found Perry?”
“The day he left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me at once what you saw? Perry’s very ill from lying there four days.”
“I’m sorry,” murmured Dennis, “I—I thought you’d, you’d——”