"Did he? did he? But where is he? Take me to him."
"Pray, take my arm! The boat is large! We may have something of a hunt! Come on! Ah, is that he?"
"Where? where?"
"O, no; I took yonder coat-skirts for his. But no, my honest friend would never turn tail that way. Ah!—"
"Where? where?"
"Another mistake. Surprising resemblance. I took yonder clergyman for him. Come on!"
Having searched that part of the boat without success, they went to another part, and, while exploring that, the boat sided up to a landing, when, as the two were passing by the open guard, the herb-doctor suddenly rushed towards the disembarking throng, crying out: "Mr. Truman, Mr. Truman! There he goes—that's he. Mr. Truman, Mr. Truman!—Confound that steam-pipe. Mr. Truman! for God's sake, Mr. Truman!—No, no.—There, the plank's in—too late—we're off."
With that, the huge boat, with a mighty, walrus wallow, rolled away from the shore, resuming her course.
"How vexatious!" exclaimed the herb-doctor, returning. "Had we been but one single moment sooner.—There he goes, now, towards yon hotel, his portmanteau following. You see him, don't you?"
"Where? where?"
"Can't see him any more. Wheel-house shot between. I am very sorry. I should have so liked you
