“Speak,” answered the engineer, “but first let me ask you a question.”
At these words the stranger reddened, and was on the point of withdrawing. Cyrus Harding understood what was passing in the mind of the guilty man, who doubtless feared that the engineer would interrogate him on his past life.
Harding held him back.
“Comrade,” said he, “we are not only your companions but your friends. I wish you to believe that, and now I will listen to you.”
The stranger pressed his hand over his eyes. He was seized with a sort of trembling, and remained a few moments without being able to articulate a word.
“Sir,” said he at last, “I have come to beg you to grant me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“You have, four or five miles from here, a corral for your domesticated animals. These animals need to be taken care of. Will you allow me to live there with them?”
Cyrus Harding gazed at the unfortunate man for a few moments with a feeling of deep commiseration; then,—
“My friend,” said he, “the corral has only stables hardly fit for animals.”