Suddenly his eye alights on the piece of paper impaled upon the topmost spike of the palmilla.

The sight gives him relief, but only for an instant; his conjectures again leading him astray.
"Poor young fellur!" is his half-spoken reflection; "he's wrote somethin' to tell how he died--mayhap somethin' for me to carry back to the dear 'uns he's left behind in ole Kaintuck.

Wall, that thing shall sartinly be done ef ever this chile gets to the States agin.

Darnashin! only to think how near I war to savin' him; a whole doe deer, an' water enough to a drownded him! It'll be useless venison now, I shan't care no more to put tooth into it myself.

Frank Hamersley gone dead--the man o' all others I'd 'a died to keep alive.