“But how can you be sure it was your father?” asked Ruth, wisely not wanting false hopes to be raised.
“That was easily proved when I mentioned circus,” said Neale. “This tramp, Hank Dayton, he said his name was, remembered the men speaking of my father talking about circuses, and saying that he had left me in one.”
“That does seem to establish an identity,” Ruth conceded. “Where is this man Dayton now, Neale?”
“He had to go on with the canal boat. But I learned from him all I could. It seems sure that my father is either back here, after some years spent in Alaska, or that he will come here soon. He must have been writing to Uncle Bill, and so have learned that I came here to live. Uncle Bill knows where I am, but I don’t know where he is at this moment, though I could get in touch with him. But I’ll be glad to see my father again. Oh, if I could only find him!”
Neale seemed to gaze afar off, over the fields and woods, as if he visualized his long-lost father coming toward him. His eyes had a dreamy look.
“Can’t we do something to help you?” asked Ruth.
“That’s what I came over about as soon as I had learned all the mule driver could tell me,” went on the boy. “I thought maybe we could ask Mr. Howbridge, your guardian, how to go about finding lost persons. There are ways of advertising for people who have disappeared.”
“There is,” said Agnes. “I’ve often seen in the paper advertisements for missing persons who are wanted to enable an estate to be cleared up, and the last time I was in Mr. Howbridge’s office I heard him telling one of the clerks to have such an advertisement prepared.”
“Then that’s what I’ve got to have done!” declared Neale. “I’ve got some money, and I can get more from Uncle Bill if I can get in touch with him. I’m going to see Mr. Howbridge and start something!”
He was about to leave the porch, to hasten away, when Ruth interposed.