Biff almost gulped the name, “Joe Nara!” before he caught himself. Then he heard his father speak calmly in reply.
“If you are really Joe Nara,” stated Mr. Brewster, “I’ll tell you all you want to know. Only I don’t believe that you are Joe Nara.”
Oddly, the wizened man’s anger faded. His own tone became even as he asked, “And why wouldn’t I be Joe Nara?”
“Joe Nara is a husky chap,” returned Mr. Brewster, “with dark hair, a bit gray, but not white. He’s tough, but he doesn’t get angry and excited. He has too good a sense of humor.”
Biff saw a twinkle in the wizened man’s eyes. The scrawny face relaxed in a genuine smile. In a soft, faraway tone, he asked, “And who told you all that?”
“Joe Nara’s partner, Lew Kirby, before he died.”
“So Lew is dead. I was afraid of that.”
As he spoke, the wizened man’s expression became very sorrowful. He gestured to Ubi, and the Indian cut the crude ropes that bound the prisoners.
“I am Joe Nara,” the white-haired man said. “I’ve grown a lot older in the years since I saw Lew Kirby last. Kind of lost my sense of humor, too, living upriver with nobody but Indians to talk to. What’s your name?”
“Tom Brewster. And this is my son Biff.”