"Go 'long; take yourself off right away," answered Cæsar, "we've no use for boys here. If you're hungry I'll gib you ten cents to buy some molasses and a bit of bacon."
"It's work I want," rejoined the boy. "I have been informed that I've a relative in this town, but I can't find him. I and a friend came from San Francisco, but the Indians attacked us, killed my friend, and robbed us of all we had. Speak to your boss for me."
Hearing that there was some conversation going on downstairs, Smithers exclaimed:
"What do you stand chinning there for?"
The boy started as he heard the voice.
"I must go upstairs!" he exclaimed. Rushing forward, the boy upset the darky, and sprang up the stairs, at the head of which Mr. Smithers was standing.
"Who are you, and what do you want here?" asked the latter.
"Don't you know me?"
"Why, yes, I think I do. Is it—can it be——"
Smithers hesitated.