"Good girl! You have decided well and wisely. Though the post of duty to which the callow lieutenantling will be ordered must, of course, be Fort Jumping Off Point, at the extreme end of the habitable globe. Well, my dear, I must bid you good night, for, see, it is on the stroke of eleven o'clock, and I am rather tired from my journey, for, you must know, we rushed it through from New York to North End without lying over," said Mr. Fabian, as he shook hands with his niece.
He retired, and his example was soon followed by all his party.
The next morning, after an early breakfast, the travelers assembled in the hall of the hotel to take leave of each other. Clarence, Sylvan, and Cora entered the capacious carriage of the establishment to drive to Rockhold, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Fabian Rockharrt on the porch of the hotel, at which they had decided to rest for a few days.
"We shall go to Rockhold to welcome the king and queen when they return, Cora," said Mr. Fabian, waving his hand to the departed trio, though he had not the least intention of keeping his word. He then led his pretty Violet into the house. The lumbering carriage rolled along the village street, passed the huge buildings of the locomotive works, and out into the road that lay between the fool of the range of mountains and the banks of the river.
The ferryboat was at the wharf, and the broad shouldered negro dwarf was standing on it, pole in hand.
His look of surprise and delight on seeing Sylvan and Cora was good to behold.
"Why, Lors bress my po' ole soul, young marse an' miss, is yer come sure 'nough? 'Deed I's moughty proud to see yer. How's de ole marse? When he coming back agin?" he queried, as the carriage rolled slowly across the gangplank from the wharf to the deck of the ferryboat.
"Your ole marse is quite well, Uncle Moses, and will be home on the first of the month with his new wife," said Sylvan, who could not miss the fun of telling this rare bit of news to the aged ferryman.
The old negro dropped his pole into the water, opened his mouth and eyes to their widest extent and gasped and stared.
"With his new wife and your new mistress," answered Sylvan.
The old negro dropped his chin on his chest, raised his knobby black fingers to his head and scratched his gray hair with a look of quaint perplexity, as he muttered,