“The story is rather long,” said Merry. “There is no chance for us to get out of this valley to-night. Take us to your home and I will tell you everything. I do not think you will regret it.”
“Why should I do dat? You are strangers.”
“That is true, but you knew Charles Merriwell.”
Frank looked straight and hard at the man as he uttered the words, but, to his surprise, the father of little Felicia did not betray emotion of any sort—or the darkness hid his betrayal.
“Charles Merriwell?” he said. “Who you mean?”
“The Good Stranger, who lies buried over yonder.”
“What you know ’bout him?”
“He was my father.”
Little Felicia gave a cry, but the man simply said:
“How you prove dat?”