“But I don’t want to stay here till he comes,” said Joe.
“Probably not,” remarked the operator, sarcastically.
The superintendent, who seemed to perceive that this was not an ordinary case of horse-stealing, now looked more closely at Joe, and noticed the boy’s haggard, hungry look.
“He won’t hurt you,” he said. “Rosencamp’s a rough fellow, but he won’t hurt any one around here; and if it turns out that the horse is yours or your father’s, you will get possession of him, of course. Meantime we shall have to find out the exact truth of the matter. Have you had any breakfast?”
“No, sir,” replied Joe, “I haven’t had any, nor Old Charlie either.”
The superintendent smiled. “Matthew,” he said, “tell the stable-man to take this horse up to the barn and feed him and rub him down. And you,” turning to the boy, who was not a little bewildered by the invitation, “come with me.”
He led the way across the street into a large boarding-house. There, in a warm and pleasant dining-room, Joe ate the first good meal he had taken in several weeks.
Under its cheering influence his heart warmed, his tongue was loosened, and to Mrs. Jones, the kind landlady, who sat by and served him, he told the story of his folly, his suffering, and his desire.