“Charlie Bell’s father?” said Ned, sitting bolt upright, and then screaming at the twinge the effort occasioned, because of his wound.
“Yes, Charlie Bell’s father.”
“But the man is an Englishman.”
“So is Charlie Bell.”
“I never knew that before.”
“He was an English boy; came to Elm Island as poor as he could be, with some bad men,—but he didn’t know they were bad when he started,—that came to rob; but they came to the wrong place, for Lion Ben most killed ‘em, kept the boy, and brought him up. I’ve heard our Joe and Mr. Williams tell about it a thousand times.”
“What if it should turn out to be so?”
“I tell you it is so; I’m certain sure it is. His father was a basket-maker, and was pressed; I heard Mr. Williams say so; and when they were boys, Charlie, Mr. Bell, and John Rhines used to make baskets, and Mr. Williams sold ‘em at the mill; and when I first went to tend store for him, there were some of ‘em in the store.”
“If your Joe or Mr. Williams were only here, we could ask them, and know all about it.”
“Yes, Joe, they said, used to live on Elm Island half the time before he was married. I remember another thing Joe said.”