“Can’t kill anything now,” said the boy, a derisive smile flickering over his features.
“I am not hunting to kill, my lad. I am hunting old scenes and memories of other days. I used to live about here. I ran away eight years ago when I was just your age.”
“What is your name?” asked David interestedly.
“Joe Forbes.”
“Oh,” was the eager rejoinder. “I know. You are Deacon Forbes’ wild son that ran away.” 23
“So that’s how I am known around here, is it? Well, I’ve come back, to settle up my father’s estate.”
“What did you run away for?” inquired David.
“Combination of too much stepmother and a roving spirit, I guess. Here we are.”
He sprang on the platform of the shanty boat and helped David on board. The boy inspected this novel house in wonder while his host set saucers and spoons on the table.
“Would you mind,” asked David in an embarrassed manner as he wistfully eyed the coveted luxury, “if I took my dishful home?”