To his great joy a boat was just passing in the direction to take him farther from Viamede.  He signaled it, and was taken aboard.

“Been getting Dr. Balis to patch up a wound, eh, stranger?” said the skipper, glancing at the disabled arm.

“Yes;” and Jackson repeated the story already told to the surgeon.

The skipper sympathized and advised a rest in the cabin.

“Thank you,” said Jackson; “but I’m only going a few miles, when I’ll reach a point where, by taking to the woods again, I’ll be likely to find my friends; who are doubtless anxious to know what has become of me.”

“Very well, sir, when we come to the right place, just let us know and we’ll put you off.”

Evidently the skipper had heard nothing to arouse his suspicions.  Jackson was landed at the spot he pointed out—­a lonely one on the edge of a forest, without question or demur, and the boat went on its way.

He watched it till it disappeared from view, then plunging into the woods, presently found a narrow foot-path, pursuing which for an hour or so he came out into a small clearing.  At the farther side, built just on the edge of the forest, was a rude log cabin.  A slatternly woman stood in the open doorway.

“So ye did get back at last?” she remarked, as he drew near.  “I’d most give ye up.  What ails your arm now?”

He briefly repeated his story to the doctor and skipper; then asked hurriedly, “Is my horse all right?”

The woman nodded.  “I’ve tuck good care on her.  Now where’s the gold ye promised me?”

“Here,” he said, taking out, and holding up before her delighted eyes, several shining half-eagles; “have my horse saddled and bridled and brought round to the door here as quickly as possible, and these are yours.”

“I’ll do it.  Bill,” to a half-grown youth who sat on a rude bench within lazily smoking a pipe—­“run and fetch the gentleman’s hoss.  But what’s yer hurry, mister?”

“This,” he answered, pointing to the disabled limb; “it’s growing worse, and I’m in haste to get home, where I can be nursed by mother and sisters, before I quite give out.”

“She’s a awful sperited cratur, and you’ll have a hard job o’ it to manage her, with one hand.”

“I must try it, nevertheless; I believe I can do it too; for she knows her master.”

“She’ll go like lightnin’,” said the boy, as he brought the animal to the door; “she’s been so long in the stable, she’s as wild and scary as a bird.”

Jackson threw the gold into the woman’s lap, turned about and taking the bridle from the boy, stroked, patted, and talked soothingly to the excited steed, who was snorting and pawing the ground in a way that boded danger to any one attempting to mount.

His caresses and kindly tones seemed, however, to have a calming effect; she grew comparatively quiet, he sprang into the saddle and was off like an arrow from the bow.