"Oh, Dan!" he cried eagerly. "Are you going out on the lake this morning? Could you take me with you?"
The boy hesitated. Whatever kindly answer he may have given, was rudely interrupted by his companion, whom Joel had never seen before.
"Oh, no!" he said roughly. "We don't want anybody limping along after us. You can't come, Jonah; you would bring us bad luck."
"My name isn't Jonah!" screamed the boy, angrily clinching his fists. "It's Joel!"
"Well, it is all the same," his tormentor called back, with a coarse laugh. "You're a Jonah, any way."
There were tears in the boy's eyes this time, as he dragged himself back again to the step.
"I hate everybody in the world!" he said in a hissing sort of whisper. "I hate'm! I hate'm!"
A stranger passing by turned for a second look at the little cripple's sensitive, refined face. A girlishly beautiful face it would have been, were it not for the heavy scowl that darkened it.
Joel pulled the ends of his head-dress round to hide his crooked back, and drew the loose robe he wore over his twisted leg.
Life seemed very bitter to him just then. He would gladly have changed places with the heavily laden donkey going by.