The boy did not stir. On the steps Merry turned and looked straight at the rebellious youngster.
“Dick!”
Their eyes met, and they stood thus for some moments, looking at each other.
“Come in!” said Frank, still keeping his eyes fastened on those of the boy.
It seemed that the lad was struggling to resist, but that, in spite of his desire to do otherwise, his power was not sufficient to combat that of the young man on the steps. Slowly at first, as if seeking to hang back, he advanced, and then he followed Frank into the cabin.
In a back room little Felicia could be heard sobbing, her father speaking an occasional kind word to her.
“Sit down, Dick,” said Frank, pointing to a chair.
The boy hesitated, as if on the point of refusing, and then sat down, as directed.
Frank went to his chair at the table near the window. As he did so he glanced out through the window and saw the old Indian in exactly the same position as before, only it seemed he had moved a little nearer the window, as if he wished to hear what passed within that room.
Merry sat down, took up his pen, dipped it in the ink, and quietly finished the sentence he had been writing when he was interrupted by the rumpus outside the window. The boy fidgeted nervously.