that he reckoned that thar tall man who didn’t speak to nobody might be wantin’ to buy her, as he had done ast him oncet how far it was to the clarin’, an’ he couldn’t want nobody thar but her.”  Mandy Ann had taken the orange, but had spurned what Ted had said of the tall man’s intentions.  She had been told too many times, during her brief stay in Jacksonville as a nurse girl, that she was of no manner of account to believe any one wished to buy her, and she paid no attention to the tall man, except to see that he was the last to enter the hotel, where he was told there was no room for him.

“But I must have a place to sleep,” he said.  “It is only for the night.  I return on the ‘Hatty.’”

“Why not stay on her then?  Some do who only come up for the trip,” was the clerk’s reply.

This was not a bad idea, although the stranger shuddered as he thought of his ill-smelling stateroom and short berth.  Still it was better than camping out doors, or—­the clearing—­where he might be accommodated.  He shuddered again when he thought of that possibility—­thanked the clerk for his suggestion—­and declined the book which had been pushed towards him for his name.  No use to register if he was not to be a guest; no use to tell his name anyway, if he could avoid it, as he had successfully on the boat, and with a polite good-evening he stepped outside just as Mandy Ann, having finished her orange, peel and all, gathered herself up with a view to starting for home.

CHAPTER II

THE PALMETTO CLEARING

The stranger had asked Ted on the boat, when he came with some lemonade he had ordered, how far it was from the Brock House to the palmetto clearing, and if there was any conveyance to take him there.  Ted had stared at him with wonder—­first, as to what such as he could want at the clearing, and second, if he was crazy enough to think there was a conveyance.  From being a petted cabin boy, Ted had grown to be something of a spoiled one, and was what the passengers thought rather too “peart” in his ways, while some of the crew insisted that he needed “takin’ down a button hole lower,” whatever that might mean.

“Bless yer soul, Mas’r,” he said, in reply to the question.  “Thar ain’t no conveyance to the clarin’.  It’s off in de woods a piece, right smart.  You sticks to de road a spell, till you comes to a grave—­what used to be—­but it’s done sunk in now till nuffin’s thar but de stun an’ some blackb’ry bushes clamberin’ over it.  Then you turns inter de wust piece of road in Floridy, and turns agin whar some yaller jasmine is growin’, an fore long you’re dar.”

The direction was not very lucid, and the stranger thought of asking the clerk for something more minute, but the surprise in Ted’s eyes when he inquired the way to the clearing had put him on his guard against a greater surprise in the clerk.  He would find his way somehow, and he went out into the yard and looked in the direction of the sandy road which led into the woods and which Mandy Ann was taking, presumably on her way home.  A second time the thought came to him that she might direct him, and he started rather rapidly after her, calling as he went:  “I say girl, I want you.  Do you hear?”