“But I can’t go till Tom comes, anyway, you know.”
The man came a step closer. He had the frame of a giant. The others who passed by were like children beside him. Then one of the men who worked in the mine, and who knew Bennie, came through the doorway, the last in the group, and said,—
“Don’t hurt the boy; let him alone. His brother’ll take him out; he always does.”
All this time Bennie stood quite still, with his hand on the door, never turning his head.
It was a strange thing for a boy to stand motionless like that, and look neither to the right nor the left, while an excited group of men passed by, one of whom had stopped and approached him, as if he meant him harm. It roused the curiosity of “Jack the Giant,” as the miners called him, and, plucking his lamp from his cap, he flashed the light of it up into Bennie’s face.
The boy did not stir; no muscle of his face moved; even his eyes remained open and fixed.
“Why, lad! lad! What’s the matter wi’ ye?” There was tenderness in the giant’s voice as he spoke, and tenderness in his bearded face as Bennie answered,—
“Don’t you know? I’m blind.”