“This is Win,” said Red. “Him’s hurt!”
Joe stepped back in horror.
“The witch’s cat,” he ejaculated.
Red looked up.
“No!” he said, “only a little one, look, only a very little one.” He held it up for Joe’s inspection. It certainly looked a very small, and young, harmless animal. It was much too frightened to move, and the wet fur clung closely to its emaciated body.
Joe came a little nearer and then reached for his coat and cap which hung behind the door.
“Come, lad,” he said gruffly, “we must get on to the Ship.”
The child looked round the warm, bright room longingly, but he followed Joe out into the rain without a word.
The man carefully latched the door behind him, and they walked on in silence for a minute or so, fighting their way against the storm.
It was bitterly cold and Joe looked down at his little companion anxiously; the child was stumbling along, the kitten tightly clasped in his arms; once or twice he nearly fell.