“You don’t want to harm the lad, do you?”
“I want to help him,” was the reply. “He looked so forlorn, and wet, and cold, and hungry, that I’ve thought of him a lot since. Where is he now?”
“Well,” Red said, in a perplexed tone, “that is what I can’t tell you.”
“Because you don’t know where he is?” demanded Clay.
“No; not that. I know where he is, but I can’t tell you.”
“Is the child implicated in any crime?” Clay asked, looking sharply into the man’s flushed face. “Is there any reason why he can’t go with us?”
“Why do you suggest crime in connection with the kid?” demanded Red, a frown on his face. “He may be associated with criminals, innocently, and yet be worthy of all your confidence and esteem!”
They talked a long time about the boy, about the events of the day, and about the future plans of the Rambler boys. The boat made good progress during the night while all save Clay and his strange companion slept. With the first flush of dawn Red asked to be put ashore, refusing to give any reason for wanting to leave the boat.
“You’ve used me mighty white,” he said at parting, “and there’ll come another day! Don’t you ever forget that, lads! There’ll come another day! And if you come across that waif again, just feed him, and warm him, and clothe him, and pass him on to wherever he wants to go. Thank you all!” and he was gone!
“What do you think of that for a mystery?” Clay asked as the man disappeared in a grove near the landing. “We shall hear from Red again.”