CHAPTER IX.
Torn suddenly from his prospective future, but too much dominated by the man beside him to protest, Clarence was silent until a rise in the road, a few minutes later, partly abated their headlong speed, and gave him chance to recover his breath and courage.
"Where is my cousin ?" he asked.
"In the Southern county, two hundred miles from here." "Are we going to him ?" "Yes." They rode furiously forward again.

It was nearly half an hour before they came to a longer ascent.

Clarence could see that Flynn was from time to time examining him curiously under his slouched hat.

This somewhat embarrassed him, but in his singular confidence in the man no distrust mingled with it.
"Ye never saw your--cousin ?" he asked.
"No," said Clarence; "nor he me.

I don't think he knew me much, any way.
"How old mout ye be, Clarence ?" "Eleven." "Well, as you're suthin of a pup"-- Clarence started, and recalled Peyton's first criticism of him--"I reckon to tell ye suthin.