At that I lost my temper entirely.

“It may be, and it may not,” I retorted.  “I am David Ritchie.”

He changed before my eyes as he stared at me, and then, ere I knew it, he had me by both arms, crying out:—­

“David Ritchie!  My Davy—­who ran away from me—­and we were going to Kentucky together.  Oh, I have never forgiven you,”—­the smile that there was no resisting belied his words as he put his face close to mine—­“I never will forgive you.  I might have known you—­you’ve grown, but I vow you’re still an old man,—­Davy, you renegade.  And where the devil did you run to?”

“Kentucky,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, you traitor—­and I trusted you.  I loved you, Davy.  Do you remember how I clung to you in my sleep?  And when I woke up, the world was black.  I followed your trail down the drive and to the cross-roads—­”

“It was not ingratitude, Nick,” I said; “you were all I had in the world.”  And then I faltered, the sadness of that far-off time coming over me in a flood, and the remembrance of his generous sorrow for me.

“And how the devil did you track me to the Widow Brown’s?” he demanded, releasing me.

“A Mr. Jackson had a shrewd notion you were there.  And by the way, he was in a fine temper because you had skipped a race with him.”

“That sorrel-topped, lantern-headed Mr. Jackson?” said Nick.  “He’ll be killed in one of his fine tempers.  Damn a man who can’t keep his temper.  I’ll race him, of course.  And where are you bound now, Davy?”

“For Louisville, in Kentucky, at the Falls of the Ohio.  It is a growing place, and a promising one for a young man in the legal profession to begin life.”

“When do you leave?” said he.

“To-morrow morning, Nick,” said I.  “You wanted once to go to Kentucky; why not come with me?”

His face clouded.

“I do not budge from this town,” said he, “I do not budge until I hear that Jack Sevier is safe.  Damn Cozby!  If he had given me my way, we should have been forty miles from here by this.  I’ll tell you.  Cozby is even now picking five men to go to Morganton and steal Sevier, and he puts me off with a kind word.  He’ll not have me, he says.”

“He thinks you too hot.  It needs discretion and an old head,” said I.

“Egad, then, I’ll commend you to him,” said Nick.

“Now,” I said, “it’s time for you to tell me something of yourself, and how you chanced to come into this country.”

“’Twas Darnley’s fault,” said Nick.

“Darnley!” I exclaimed; “he whom you got into the duel with—­” I stopped abruptly, with a sharp twinge of remembrance that was like a pain in my side.  ’Twas Nick took up the name.

“With Harry Riddle.”  He spoke quietly, that was the terrifying part of it.  “David, I’ve looked for that man in Italy and France, I’ve scoured London for him, and, by God, I’ll find him before he dies.  And when I do find him I swear to you that there will be no such thing as time wasted, or mercy.”