When he described the persons of the two strangers, so unexpectedly lending their aid in defence of the traveller, a new interest was awakened in the features and mariner of his auditor, who here suddenly and with energy interrupted him, to make inquiries with regard to their dress and appearance, which not a little surprised Dillon, who had frequently experienced the aversion of his superior to all seemingly unnecessary minutiae.

Having been satisfied on these points, the outlaw rose, and pacing the apartment with slow steps, seemed to meditate some design which the narrative had suggested.
Suddenly pausing, at length, as if all the necessary lights had shone in upon his deliberations at once, he turned to Dillon, who stood in silent waiting, and thus proceeded:-- "I have it," said he, half-musingly, "I have it, Dillon--it must be so.
How far, say you, is it from the place where the man--what's his name--encamped last night ?" "Nine or ten miles, perhaps, or more." "And you know his route for to-day ?" "There is now but one which he can take, pursuing the route which he does." "And upon that he will not go more than fifteen or twenty miles in the day.

But not so with _him_--not so with _him_.

He will scarcely be content to move at that pace, and there will be no hope in that way to overtake him." Rivers spoke in soliloquy, and Dillon, though accustomed to many of the mental irregularities of his superior, exhibited something like surprise as he looked upon the lowering brows and unwonted indecision of the outlaw.
"Of whom does the captain speak ?" was his inquiry.
"Of _whom ?_--of _him_--of _him_!" was the rather abrupt response of the superior, who seemed to regard the ignorance of his lieutenant as to the object in view, with almost as much wonder as that worthy entertained at the moment for the hallucinations of his captain.
"Of whom should I speak--of whom should I think but the one--accursed, fatal and singular, who--" and he stopped short, while his mind, now comprehending the true relationship between himself and the person beside him, which, in his moody self-examination, he had momentarily forgotten, proceeded to his designs with all his wonted coherence.
"I wander, Dillon, and am half-asleep.

The fact is, I am almost worn out with this unslumbering motion.