“I’m here, sir,” said Joe, as he entered.
“Why, my dear boy! so you are! and glad I am to see you. And you are on time. I had just pulled out my watch, and said to myself, ‘In one short quarter of an hour the boy should be here, and I shall have his supper ready for him.’ And just then you knocked, and here is my watch still in my hand. My dear boy, sit down and rest your bones. I feel better.”
Mr. Deomatari had supper for Joe and himself brought to his room, and as he ate he talked.
“You are a clever chap,” said Mr. Deome-tari. “You don’t know how clever you are. No,” he went on, seeing a curious smile on Joe’s face—“no, I’m not making fun of you. I mean just what I say. Where is the boy in this town who would have galloped through the dark on an errand that he knew nothing of? I tell you, he is not to be found. But suppose he could be found, wouldn’t he bother me with ten thousand questions about what he was expected to do, and how he was going to do it, and when, and which, and what not? Now, I want to ask you why you came?”
“Because you sent for me,” said Joe buttering another biscuit. “And because I wanted to find out all about—”
“All about what?” asked Mr. Deometari.
“About Mr. Pruitt, and—everything.”
“Well,” said Mr. Deometari, “I won’t tell you precisely why I sent for you—you’ll find out for yourself; but one of the reasons is that I want you to go with a little party of us to a point not far from your home. You know the roads, and you know what the negroes call the short cuts.”
“To-night?” asked Joe.
“Yes, to-night. Not now, but a little later.”