have come for this man. I
know his father. I'll get back as soon as I can."

"All right. And if you can do anything for this poor fellow you are
welcome to, for he's not much use round here."

DeGolyer snatched his hat and rushed out into the street. Not a hack
was in sight; he could not wait for a car, and he hastened toward the
river. He began to run, and a boy cried: "Sick him, Tige." He stopped
suddenly and put his hand to his head. "Have I lost my mind?" he asked
himself.

"Well, here we are again," some one said. DeGolyer looked round and
recognized the railroad man who had charge of the excursion.

"I'm glad I met you," DeGolyer replied. "It saves hunting you up."

"Why, what's the matter? Are you sick?"

"No, I'm all right, but something has occurred that compels me to
return at once to Chicago."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"No, but it demands my immediate return. I'm sorry, but it can't be
helped. Good-by."

Again he started toward the river. He upset an old woman's basket of
fruit. She cried out at him, and be saw that she could scarcely totter
after the rolling oranges. He halted and picked them up for her. She
mumbled something; she appeared to be a hundred years old. As he was
putting the fruit into the basket, she struck a note in her mumbling
that caused him to look her full in the face. He dropped the oranges
and sprang back. She was the hag that had taken him from the
Foundlings' Home. He hurried onward. "Great God!" he inwardly cried,
"I am covered with the slime of the past."

Without difficulty he found the captain of the Creole. "I don't know
very much about the poor fellow," he said. "I run across him nearly
six months ago fit a little place called Dura, on the coast of Costa
Rica. He was working about a sort of hotel, scrubbing and taking care
of the horses; and I guess I shouldn't have paid any attention to him
if I hadn't heard somebody say that he was an American; and it struck
me as rather out of place that an American should be scrubbing round
for those fellows, and I began to inquire about him. The landlord said
that he was brought there sick, a good while ago, and was left for
dead, but just as they were about to bury him he came to, and got up
again after a few weeks. A priest told me that his name was Henry
DeGolyer, and I said that it didn't make any difference what his name
might be, I was going to take him back to the United States, so that
if he had to clean out stables