Boswell was ready to aid him in any way, would even deny himself the longing of seeing his old friend face to face, since that seemed desirable. He would meet the young woman at a place called Little Corners and would do what he could for her.
"Joan Moss is still alive."
A strong light and a new hope came into Farwell's sad eyes. He had a hold on the future! With the possibility of supplanting Ledyard in Pine's ideas of loyalty and economics what might not happen?
And so they started back.
It was midnight, four days after Farwell had left home, that he entered his own door again. The return trip had been rushed, much to Pine's approbation. Priscilla was quietly sewing at the table when Farwell, having loudly bidden the Indian good night, came into the living-room.
The girl's alarmed glance turned to one of relieved welcome when she saw Farwell. She had some food ready for him—every night she had been prepared—and he ate it ravenously. She noted how white and weary he looked, but the triumphant expression in his sad eyes did not escape her, either.
"You have good news?" she asked as soon as Farwell had rested a bit by his fireside.
"Yes. And you?"
"Oh! I have done famously. Only two knocks at the door, and I was well hidden. Once it was Mrs. McAdam and once old Jerry. They did not try to enter."
"They would not. And there was food and fuel enough?"