“And why so—why so, my lord?”
“I supposed you were on the Pacific coast with old Neptune.”
“So I have been, my lord, and a right merry time had old Nep. and I.”
“I should have thought you would have remained there, Mr. Strange, with your old friend of the sea,” said Rainbolt, scarcely knowing what to make of the wild, strange man.
“I would have remained, my lord, but in making my passage over these hills when I saw you before, I heard a dark secret connected with them, and that an awful demon rode on the midnight air over the mountain, striking terror to every heart, every heart, my lord.”
“And who told you so much, Mr. Strange?”
“The wind, the wind, my lord. And the secret I’ll fathom and the demon I’ll slay. And now, is there aught of the past or future you would wish to know, my lord?”
“There is much I would like to know, Mr. Strange,” returned the ranger, “but I can scarcely remember any thing, now.”
“You doubt me, my lord, but hearken: Your wife lives, my lord, and seek you not another! Ay, you start, but it is so. And let me tell you more, my lord. Since God in his mercy saved you from death at the falls, you need have no fear of your fellow-men. Your shoulders bear the weight of no crime; you were the victim of a foul plot—the letter was forged by one Duval Dungarvon in hopes of having you hung, hung, my lord.”
As the strange man concluded, he turned and strode briskly away, leaving the ranger seated alone upon his animal, completely dumbfounded and mystified.