"I will not send for him. I don't care so much for the money as I do for my mother. Tell me where she is, or send for her."
"She could not come."
"Then I can go to her."
"Sit down, Ernest, and be calm."
"I'm calm enough. I could forgive you for anything you have done to me. If you will not tell me where she is, I shall find her myself."
"You cannot find her."
"I can apply to Mr. Robert G. Bunyard—and—"
My uncle sprang to his feet, uttered a cry of agony, and attempted to stagger towards me; but his legs yielded beneath him, and he sank upon the floor. He had either fainted or fallen in a fit. I called old Betsey, and she and I placed him on a sofa. She said he had only fainted, and wanted to know what had happened. I replied that my uncle would tell her if he thought best. We bathed his head and rubbed his temples till he opened his eyes.
"Send for Thomas," said he, feebly.
I was satisfied that he would recover, and being perfectly willing Tom should be sent for, I told Jerry where he could probably be found. I then left the house by the front door. My uncle's horse stood at the hitching-post. He had probably employed some one to follow up the Splash, and then returned to the house. As I went out, I saw a large sail-boat standing up the lake, which I concluded was in pursuit of me. Hastening up the hill, I found Bob greatly alarmed at my long absence.