"Well?" he said impatiently.
Cyril was greatly perplexed. How much could he tell the saw-miller without compromising the man who had saved his life?
CHAPTER IX.
AT THE SAW-MILL.
"It was in a train. It was attacked by rough, cruel men, and one of them killed my father."
Cyril's voice shook as he spoke, and for a moment he paused.
"I fell into the hands of the men, and they were leaving me to die, when Green—I mean Ben Davidson, rescued me."
"Ah! Just so! Well, I won't ask you questions about that. But say, what is your name? Where do you come from?"
"My name is Cyril Morton. My father was an English gentleman, with an estate in Cornwall. We came to this country in search of my uncle, Gerald Morton. Have you ever known him, do you think?"
Cyril asked the question with sudden eagerness. Who was so likely as the great saw-miller to know a sojourner in those parts?