"I'm going to learn and then go back and help them-all who can't help themselves," Sandy explained, "for I know, sir. No one what does not know, could ever do it! Us-all fears strangers. I'm going to get them-all safe some day, sir. I'm going to have a right, big place to gather them in and teach them. No Hertford curse is going to kill what has called me!"
So abstracted had Levi been, so distant in thought from the Bretherton study, and his own inward trouble, that this name, falling from Sandy's lips, shocked him beyond measure.
"What—did—you—say?" he gasped; "what name did you say?"
"Hertford, sir."
"What do you know of the Hertfords?" It was all Markham could do to hold his emotions in abeyance.
Sandy told his father's story, all but that which related to the Waldens, and the listener hung on every word.
"And so, sir, don't you see, I must be what they-all, my kith and kin, couldn't be? I've got to use my chance for them as well as for me."
"It's a big proposition, boy!" Levi relaxed.
"Yes, sir." The young face was tired and worn.
"Well, then, listen"—a strange light shone in Markham's eyes—"if you prove yourself able to tackle this job, by God, I'll back you! You and I will redeem that old Hollow of yours—you with my money! We'll get Smith Crothers by the throat and throttle him; we'll clean up the Speak Easies and cut more windows in the cabins. Where did you get the notion, son, that with more light and air there would be less damnation?"