Indeed, it struck Mr.
Hamlin that he was as intensely a part of that sylvan seclusion as
the hidden brook that murmured, the brown velvet shadows that lay like
trappings on the white flanks of his horse, the quivering heat, and the
stinging spice of bay. Mr. Hamlin had vague ideas of dryads and fauns,
but at that moment would have bet something on the chances of their
survival.
"I did not hear what you said just now, general," he remarked, with
great elegance of manner, "but I know from your reputation that it could
not be a lie. I therefore gather that there IS another way across."
The boy smiled; rather, his very short upper lip apparently vanished
completely over his white teeth, and his very black eyes, which showed a
great deal of the white around them, danced in their orbits.
"But YOU couldn't find it," he said, slyly.
"No more could you find the half-dollar I dropped just now, unless I
helped you."
Mr. Hamlin, by way of illustration, leaned deeply over his left stirrup,
and pointed to the ground.
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