‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. Wood. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. She chose to hold her nose.
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