Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. As Jonathan scarcely expected a more satisfactory result, he made no comment; but, ordering Quilt to continue his search, and not to return until he had found the fugitive, called Abraham Mendez into the house, and shut the door.
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