after that he was the
loneliest little fellow you have ever seen. He refused to eat the extra
tea-cake that his mother had put in the pocket of his jacket, and made
up his mind to be perfectly miserable until he got back home. But, after
all, boys are boys, and the feeling of loneliness and dejection wore
away after awhile, and before he had gone many miles, what with making
the acquaintance of the driver, who was a private soldier, and getting
on friendly terms with Captain Falconer, he soon arrived at the point
where he relished his tea-cake, and when this had been devoured, he felt
as if travelling was the most delightful thing in the world, especially
if a fellow has been intrusted with a tremendous secret that nobody else
in the world knew besides Mr. Sanders and himself.

For as soon as Mr. Sanders discovered that the Captain would be willing
to have Cephas go along, he had taken the little chap in hand, and
thoroughly impressed upon his mind everything he wanted him to say to
Gabriel, and he was not satisfied until Cephas had written the message
out in the dog-latin of the school-children, and had learned it by
heart. Mr. Sanders also impressed on the little lad's mind the
probability that the Captain would be curious as to the nature of the
message; and he gave Cephas a plausible answer for every question that
an inquisitive person could put to him, and made him repeat these
answers over and over again. In fact, Cephas was compelled to study as
hard as if he had been in school, but he relished the part he was to
play, and learned it with a zest that was very pleasing to Mr. Sanders.
Only an hour before he was to leave with the Captain, Mr. Sanders went
to Cephas's home, and made him repeat over everything he had been
taught, and the glibness with which the little lad repeated the answers
to the questions was something wonderful in so small a chap.

"Don't git lonesome, Cephas," was the parting injunction of Mr. Sanders.
"Don't forgit that I'll be on the train when the whistle blows. I'm
gwine to start right off. You may not see me, but I'll not be far off.
Keep a stiff upper lip, an' don't git into no panic. The whole thing is
gwine through like it was on skids, an' the skids greased."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

_Cephas Has His Troubles_

Usually there is a yawning gulf between youth and old age; but in the
case of Mrs. Lumsden and Nan Dorrington, it was spanned by the
simplicity and tenderness common to