The reporter shrugged his shoulders.

“Some wild-goose speculation, I suppose.  Smart and gritty—­if I had her stick I shouldn’t be here—­but she always slips up—­can’t keep all her wires well in hand.  Was an advertising agent when I left the East—­picked up a good many ads, too, and made folks treat her respectfully, when they’d have kicked a man out of doors if he’d come on the same errand.”

“Say she’s been asking for Axel,” remarked the young man.

“That so!” queried the reporter, wrinkling his brow, and hurrying through his mental notebook.  “Oh, yes—­there was some talk about them at one time.  Some said they were married—­she said so, but she never took his name.  She had a handsome son, that looked like her and the major, but she didn’t know how to manage him—­went to the dogs, or worse, before he was eighteen.”

“Axell here?” asked the young man.

“No,” replied the reporter; “and ’twouldn’t do her any good if he was.  The major’s stylish and good-looking, and plays a brilliant game, but he hasn’t any more heart than is absolutely necessary to his circulation.  Besides, his—­”

The reporter was interrupted by a heavy hand falling on his shoulder, and found, on turning, that the hand belonged to “The General.”

The general was not a military man, but his title had been conferred in recognition of the fact that he was a born leader.  Wherever he went the general assumed the reins of government, and his administration had always been popular as well as judicious.

But at this particular moment the general seemed to feel unequal to what was evidently his duty, and he, like a skillful general, sought a properly qualified assistant, and the reporter seemed to him to be just the man he wanted.

“Spidertracks,” said the general, with an air in which authority and supplication were equally prominent, “you’ve told an awful sight of lies in your time.  Don’t deny it, now—­nobody that ever reads the papers will b’leeve you.  Now’s yer chance to put yer gift of gab to a respectable use.  The lady’s bothered, and wants to say somethin’ or ask somethin’, and she’ll understand your lingo better’n mine.  Fire away now, lively!”

The ex-shorthand-writer seemed complimented by the general’s address, and stepping forward and raising the remains of what had once been a hat, said: 

“Can I serve you in any way, madame?”

The lady glanced at him quickly and searchingly, and then, seeming assured of the reporter’s honesty, replied: 

“I am looking for an old acquaintance of mine—­one Major Axell.”

“He is not in camp, ma’am,” said Spidertracks.  “He was at Rum Valley a few days ago, when our party was organized to come here.”

“I was there yesterday,” said the lady, looking greatly disappointed, “and was told he started for here a day or two before.”

“Some mistake, ma’am, I assure you,” replied Spidertracks.  “I should have known of his arrival if he had come.  I’m an old newspaper man, ma’am, and can’t get out of the habit of getting the news.”