I've got a newspaper on my hands; I reckon it would be a pretty good thing, if it had a chance; but I don't know what to do with it: I got it in trade with a fellow who has to go West for his lungs, but he's staying till I get back.

What's become of that young chap--what's his name ?--that went out with us ?" "Burnamy ?" prompted March, rather breathlessly.
"Yes.

Couldn't he take hold of it?
I rather liked him.

He's smart, isn't he ?" "Very," said March.

"But I don't know where he is.