I covered my face with my hand. “Go on,” I bade him, hoarsely.
“One day he saw the mark on my chest. I’d been fightin’ at school, Mr. David—and coming home I was crying and sorry, and Wanza, she came along, in her cart, and she washed my face and neck and tidied me. The big man came up—and said: ‘Good day, young man?’ And when he saw the funny red mark on my chest he asked Wanza, ‘Who is this boy?’ And Wanza, she told him how you took me just a three year old when a woman a few miles down river died, and how the woman got me over on the Sound of her brother who was a fisherman and had picked me up on the beach one time after a storm. The big man kept asking questions and questions, and Wanza told him the woman’s brother was dead, too. And, at last, Wanza got tired of talking and she just said: ‘Good day, Mr. Batterly,’ and told me to get in the cart, and we drove off.”
Joey paused and his soft eyes flashed. I was too greatly overcome to make any comment, and I lay back, feeling that my world was crashing in chaos about my head. After awhile the lad continued:
“That day when he—he stole me, Mr. David, I was coming home from school along the river road. He stopped me and he said he was my father and I must go with him. ‘Get off your horse,’ he said. I got off Buttons, but I said: ‘No, I’ll not go with you. I’ll ask Mr. David, first!’ The big man laughed and said you’d find out soon enough. I kicked and kicked, Mr. David, when he grabbed me by the arm. And then another big man came out of the bushes, and they tied up my mouth and they carried me to a boat and locked me up in a funny little cupboard. By and by I went to sleep. Then one morning I woke up and I was here. I heard the big man say to the other man: ‘I’ve got him, Bill. My wife’ll have to come to terms now.’”
Again Joey paused, and I writhed and was silent. Joey looked at me commiseratingly and went on:
“’Most a week ago he told me he was going to fetch Bell Brandon. ‘You be a good boy,’ he said, ‘and I’ll bring her.’ And he went away; but he locked the door, ’cause he said he couldn’t trust me. I ’most knew you’d come, Mr. David! The minute you knocked I knew you’d come for me. And I’m going away with you—and you’ll punish the big man, won’t you? And I’m not his boy, am I, Mr. David?”
“If you are his boy,” I said huskily, “you belong to Bell Brandon, too.” And with my words a terrible blinding despair swept over me. I was too steeped in lassitude and despondency to reason, too greatly fatigued to wonder. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wall.
After awhile a blanket was drawn carefully over me. I felt a warm breath on my face. My eyes opened straight into Joey’s, and I reached out and took his hand in mine. “Joey,” I whispered, seeing shining drops on his cheeks, “Joey, I’m in trouble. I must think, lad! The big man won’t be back, lad—he’ll not return at all—I know that—you will never see him again. But after awhile you and Bell Brandon will be very happy together—after awhile.”
“What do you mean, Mr. David? Ain’t I going to live at Cedar Dale again, with you, and Jingles and Buttons, same as ever? Oh, ain’t I, Mr. David?” my little lad cried out, and his tears fell fast.
I slept that night with Joey at my side in the narrow bunk, and I awoke at intervals, and stared out through the glimmering casement at the moon-silvered trees. Weary as I was, my cogitations kept me from repose. I promised myself that I would push on to the Mission in the morning. Joey should go with me, and the stage should bear us back to Roselake, although this would necessitate a delay. I moved, and Joey’s hand fluttered out toward me in his sleep. He whispered my name.