“Well,” said the boy, “I must just wait, unless you could tell me where he is to be found.”
“That could not I,” replied the other. “I know he was going to Newcastle and then up Tyne and down Tees; after that I think he was going to Skipton and West to Clitheroe and then North. He should be somewhere on the Tees now, I reckon, perhaps down as far as Rokeby.”
“Do you know the Tees?” said John.
The man lifted his grey deep set eyes; they had a far away look in them, as though he did not see the boy before him. They were watching the Tees come over the High Force and the rainbow that hung in the quivering spray.
“Yes, I know the Tees,” he said at length. “I know the Tees.
“Do you know the Tees?” he went on; and it seemed to John that the hollow eyes in the sick man’s face looked at him hungrily. “Maybe you come from those parts yourself.”
“I do,” said John; “I was born and bred in Upper Teesdale.”
“What is your name?”
“John Arnside.”
The man looked at him and then the sad eyes seemed to brighten a little. “John Arnside, son of Janet Arnside?” he asked.