Lilly Nettleton, for it was no other, nodded to the agent—who returned the money—and quickly stepped around to help d**k disengage himself from the window, and then quickly drew him away from the crowd which the little episode had collected, sat down beside him, and, heartily laughing at his ludicrous appearance, said, “Why, d**k, where under heaven did you come from?”
“Lil, gal,” said poor d**k, wiping the tears of joy out of his eyes, “I come all the way from Californy fur ye, found ye gone and the old folks all bust and banged up about it. Fur six weary weeks I’ve been huntin’, huntin’ ye up and down, here and yon, and was goin’ back to Terre Haute, sell the d——d farm I bought fur ye, and skip back to the Slope to kill Injuns, or somethin’, to drown my sorrow, fur I told the old folks
