"The 15th of August, Jack."
He looked at me, and then bent over toward me.
"It's up already, sir."
"What, is he dead, then?"
"No, sir, but he has escaped."
And he filled his pipe while I gathered myself together. It was dreadfully unfortunate if it were true.
"How do you know this?" I said at length,
"I saw him in New Westminster one night."
"The deuce you did! Harmer, are you sure?"
The lad looked uncomfortable, and wriggled about on his seat, which was the old stump of a tree felled by some former occupants of our camping ground.