But now that he was there, for a reason which he could not well have declared to any one, he hesitated to apply to Mr Hadden for the information which he desired. It would be more natural and more agreeable to them both, he thought, that meeting William Bain as it were by chance, he should claim him as a countryman, and strive to win his confidence first of all. Afterward, he might be able to help and influence him. And it was too likely that he would need both help and influence.
That this lad who, not through wickedness perhaps, but through weakness and folly, had brought sorrow on all who loved him, would have strength and wisdom to resist all temptation, and begin a new life in a new land, was hardly to be believed. Alone, homesick, remorseful, there was little hope of his doing well without help from some one.
“And whatever else I may do, I must first find Willie Bain and help him as he may need, for Allison’s sake.”
But time was precious, and John’s purse was not very deep; and if he were to see anything of this wonderful country, he told himself, he must not linger long in Barstow. But he did linger day after day. He did not seem to care so very much for seeing the country. He was growing well and strong, and to get health and strength was his motive for crossing the sea. He was as well here as elsewhere, and here he must stay. It seemed to be “borne in upon him,” that there was something for him to do in the place.
When several days had passed, he made up his mind that he would go to the bank and see Mr Hadden, and he went. It was too late to see him that day. Mr Hadden had gone home. On that night something happened. John met the man whom he was seeking, face to face.
It could be no one else, he said to himself. For the eyes which met his for a moment were the beautiful, sad eyes of Allison Bain. “Now, God guide me!” said John in strong entreaty, and then he followed the lad. He followed him down one street and up another, and out into the country along the lake shore. The stranger moved more slowly as he went on and stopped at last; and, leaning upon a broken fence, looked out long upon the water.
“I’m not so very strong yet,” said John to himself, as he paused also, for his heart was beating hard and his hands trembled.
While he hesitated whether he should speak at once or wait a while, the lad turned and began to retrace his steps. John addressed him as he passed. “Can you tell me if I am on the right road to—to—Jericho?” said he, at a loss for a name. “No, I cannot tell you. I am a stranger here.”
“A stranger? So am I. And you are a Scotchman, I ken by your tongue. So am I. We are both strangers in a strange land.”
If John had had time to think, he might not have spoken in this way, but it is very likely he might have said nothing which would have answered a better purpose. The lad turned and looked at him.