to my house we talked of the good weather we were having, of the late news from America and of my summons to appear before the Privy Council.  He betrayed no sign of the folly which was on foot.  I saw him only once after he helped me into the house and left me to go to his lodgings.  But often I find myself thinking of his handsome face and heroic figure and gentle voice and hand.  He was like a loving son to me.”

2

That evening Solomon arrived with Preston.  Solomon gave a whistle of relief as he entered their lodgings on Bloomsbury Square and dropped into a chair.

“Wal, sir!  We been flyin’ eround as brisk as a bee,” he remarked.  “I feel as if I had spraint one leg and spavined t’other.  The sun was over the fore yard when we got back, and since then, we went to see the wild animals, a hip’pottermas, an’ lions, an’ tigers, an’ snakes, an’ a bird with a neck as long as a hoe handle, an’ a head like a tommyhawk.  I wouldn’t wonder if he could peck some, an’ they say he can fetch a kick that would knock a hoss down.  Gosh!  I kind o’ felt fer my gun!  Gol darn his pictur’!  Think o’ bein’ kicked by a bird an’ havin’ to be picked up an’ carried off to be mended.  We took a long, crooked trail hum an’ walked all the way.  It’s kind o’ hard footin’.”

Solomon spoke with the animation of a boy.  At last he had found something in London which had pleased and excited him.

“Did you have a good time at Sir Jeffrey’s?” the young man asked.

“Better’n a barn raisin’!  Say, hones’, I never seen nothin’ like it—­’twere so blandiferous!  At fust I were a leetle bit like a man tied to a tree—­felt so helpless an’ unsart’in.  Didn’t know what were goin’ to happen.  Then ol’ Jeff come an’ ontied me, as ye might say, an’ I ’gun to feel right.  ‘Course Preston tol’ me not to be skeered—­that the doin’s would be friendly, an’ they was.  Gol darn my pictur’!  I’ll bet a pint o’ powder an’ a fish hook thar ain’t no nicer womern in this world than ol’ Jeff’s wife—­not one.  I give her my jack-knife.  She ast me fer it.  ’Twere a good knife, but I were glad to give it to her.  Gosh!  I dunno what she wants to do with it.  Mebbe she likes to whittle.  They’s some does.  I kind o’ like it myself.  I warned her to be keerful not to cut herself ’cause ’twere sharper’n the tooth o’ a weasel.  The vittles was tasty—­no common ven’son er moose meat, but the best roast beef, an’ mutton, an’ ham an’ jest ’nough Santa Cruz rum to keep the timber floatin’!  They snickered when I tol’ ‘em I’d take my tea bar’ foot.  I set ‘mongst a lot o’ young folks, mostly gals, full o’ laugh an’ ginger, an’ as purty to look at as a flock o’ red birds, an’ I sot thar tellin’ stories ’bout the Injun wars, an’ bear, an’ moose, an’ painters till the moon were down an’ a clock hollered one.  Then I let each o’ them gals snip off a grab o’ my hair.  I dunno what they wanted to do with it, but they ’pear to be as fond o’ takin’ hair as Injuns.  Mebbe ’twas fer good luck.  I wouldn’t wonder if my head looks like it was shingled.  Ayes!  I had an almighty good time.