no signs, and he approached Mrs. Perkenpine to inquire for
Clyde. At his question the sturdy woman turned and smiled. It was a queer
smile, reminding the bishop of the opening and shutting of a farm gate.

"He's a one-er," said she. "Do you suppose he could ketch a rabbit, no
matter how fast he ran?"

"Come, now," said the bishop, "he wasn't trying to do that?"

"He was either doin' that, or else he was runnin' away. I seed him early
this mornin'--I wasn't up, but I was lookin' round--and I thought from the
way he was actin' that he'd set a rabbit-trap and was goin' to see if he'd
caught anything, and pretty soon I seed him runnin' like Sam Hill, as if
his rabbit had got away from him. But perhaps it wasn't that, and maybe
somebody skeered him. Anyway, he's clean gone."

The bishop stood and reflected; the affair looked serious. Clyde was a
practical, sensible fellow--and he was gone. Why did he go?

"Have you seen any of the Archibalds yet?" he asked.

"No," said she; "I guess they're not up yet, though it's late for them. My
young woman ain't up nuther, but it ain't late for her."

The bishop walked slowly towards the cabin and regarded it earnestly.
After a few minutes inspection he stepped up to the door and knocked. Then
he knocked again and again, and hearing nothing from within he became
alarmed, and ran to Matlack.

"Hello!" he cried. "Something has happened to your people, or they have
gone away. Come to the cabin, quick!"

In less than a minute Matlack, the bishop, and Bill Hammond were at the
cabin, and the unfastened door was opened wide. No one was in the house,
that was plain enough, but on the floor were four bags packed for
transportation.

Matlack looked about him, and then he laughed. "All right," said he;
"there ain't no need of worryin' ourselves. They haven't left a thing of
theirs about, everything's packed up and ready to be sent for. When people
do that, you may be sure nothing's happened to them. They've gone off, and
I bet it's to get rid of that young woman's preachin'. But I don't blame
them; I don't wonder they couldn't stand it."

The bishop made no reply. Remembering his recent conversation with Mrs.
Archibald, he believed that, if they had quietly gone away, there was a
better reason for it than Miss Raybold's fluency of expression. It was
possible that something might have happened after he had retired from the
scene the night before, for when he went to sleep Raybold was stil