He did not seem to notice them at first, but from his seat on a log leaned over the fire warming his hands, which Ned saw were large, white and smooth.

His legs lay loosely against the log, as if he were suffering from a species of paralysis.

The others, soaked by the rain, which, however, now ceased, were also hovering over the fire which was giving new life to the blood in their veins.

The man with the white hands turned presently and, speaking to Ned, Obed and the Panther, said: "My name is Roylston, John Roylston." Ned started.
"I see that you have heard of it," continued the stranger, but without vanity.

"Yes, I am the merchant of New Orleans.