Then I struck up the road, and when I passed the mill I see a sign on it, “Phelps’s Sawmill,” and when I come to the farmhouses, two or three hundred yards further along, I kept my eyes peeled, but didn’t see nobody around, though it was good daylight now. But I didn’t mind, because I didn’t want to see nobody just yet⁠—I only wanted to get the lay of the land. According to my plan, I was going to turn up there from the village, not from below. So I just took a look, and shoved along, straight for town. Well, the very first man I see when I got there was the duke. He was sticking up a bill for the Royal Nonesuch⁠—three-night performance⁠—like that other time. They had the cheek, them frauds! I was right on him before I could shirk. He looked astonished, and says:

“Hel- lo ! Where’d you come from?” Then he says, kind of glad and eager, “Where’s the raft?⁠—got her in a good place?”

I says: