The Dillon tribune., 1885-10-10
CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.
The end Of that wretched night came at last.
When the welcome morning broke found
that great change had taken place out of
doors. The fierce snowstOrm bad been the
farewell of the frost. The heavy rain that
followed had filed the roads with slushy
and rapidly -thawing snow. l managed to
extort some sort of q breakfast from my
host; then, having recompensed him &C.
cording to my promise, not his deserts,
started, as.9oon as could, on the bare back
of my unfortunate steed, for Midcombe,
which place, after my nights experiences,
seemed gifted with merits not its own.
was surprised upon leaving the house to
lind it was Of larger dimensions than, from
the little saw of it during the night, I had
imagined. It was altogether better class
of residence than had supposed My surly
friend accompanied me until he had placed
me ON the main road, where could make
no possible mistake. He was kind enough
to promise to assist any one might send out
in getting the dogcart under way. Then,
with a hearty wish on my part that might
never again meet with his like, we parted.
found my way to Midcome without much
trouble. I took of my things, had wash,
and, like q sensible man for once, went to
bed. But I did not forget to send boy
straight of to the nearest telegraph station.
My message to Brand was brief one. Ii
simply said: TELL your friend have found
his man" This duty done, dismissed ell
psculation as 10 tho result from my mind,
and settled down to make up arrears Of
sleep.
I was surprised at the reply received thai
same evening from Brand: 1--WE shall b
with you as soon as we can get down to
morrow. Meet us at station" From this il
was clear that my friend was wanted par
ticularly-all the betterl I turned to the
time table and found that, owing to change
and delays, they could not get to c., the
nearest station to Midcombe, until 8 o'clock
in the afternoon. Inquired about the Grip
pied dog-cart. It had been brought in; 80
left strict instructions that q shaft of some
sort was to be rugged in time for me to drive
over the next day and meet the doctor and
his friend.
They came as promised. 1t was comfort
to see friends of any description. SO gave
them hearty welcome. Carriston took
hold of both my hands and shook them &c
warmly that began to fear had discovered
a long-lost father OF his in my friend. 1had
almost forgotten the young fellows appear.
ance, or he looked a very different man to
day from the one had seen when last We
met. Then he was a wan, pensive, roman
tic, poeticall ooking sort Of fellow; now he
seemed full of energy, vitality and grit. Poor
old Brand looked as serious as an undertaken
engaged in burying his own mother.
Carriston began to question me, but Brand
stopped him. ''You promised should make
inquiries drst," be said. Thsn he turned tc
me.
Look here, Richard, when hs calls mi
Richard I know he Il fearfully in earnest
II believe you have brought us down on q
FOOLS errand; but let us 60 to some placs
whore we can talk together for few min.
utes"
I led them across the road to the Railway
Inn. We entered room, and, having fof
tho sake Of appearances ordered little light
refreshment, told the waiter to shut the door
from the outside. Brand settled down with
the air of a cross-examining counsel. lex.
pected to see him pull out q New Testament
and put me ON my oath.
"Now, Richard" he said, ''before We "a
further I want to know your reasons for
thinking this man, about whom you tele
graphed, IL Carriston's man, as you call
him."
Reasons! Why of course he is the man.
Carriston gave me his photograph. The
likeness Is ind;sputable- the finger.
joint out OF tue question"