"Yes," Ben nodded. His face was very red, and great tears were in his eyes. The man before whom he stood knew all about him. He knew of the shameful years of robbery and violence; he knew of the father's broken heart.
Suddenly the saw-miller laid his hand on Ben's shoulder.
"Go meet him, lad," he said. "See, he's crossing the yard."
Ben hurried out. The two in the office heard a great glad cry—
"My son! My son! 'He was dead, and is alive again. He was lost, and is found!' Thank God. Oh, thank God!"
"Now," said Mr. Ellison to Cyril, "tell me who you are. Do you belong to that man?"
"No, sir; oh, no!"
"Then how came you to be here with him?"
Cyril looked up into the man's grave, kind face. He wanted to tell him all that had befallen him since the time that he sat by his father's side in the train going northwards from Menominee, but remembered that he must not betray the ex-robber. And although it was evident Mr. Ellison knew something of the latter's wrong-doing, Cyril was not aware how far that knowledge extended.
A shade of sternness crept over Mr. Ellison's face as he noticed the boy's hesitancy.