“I didn't, honestly,” said Josephus Peabody. “Where did you come from to-night?” asked Letitia.
“Why, I came from Mr. Cephas Holbrook's. It's about ten miles away on that side.” The boy pointed in the dark.
“You came all that way?”
“I had to if I came at all. I don't get any time to see my traps day-times. I have to work. I have to chop wood, and make wooden pegs. I never saw wooden pegs, till—till I came here. I have to work all day. Eliphalet Holbrook, he's a boy about my size, got out of the window one night, when it was moonlight, and we set traps, and we haven't either of us had a chance to look at them and see if we've caught anything; but to-night, I had a cold and they sent me to bed early and I whispered to Eliphalet, that I'd see those traps; and I had a pine knot, and I run and run, but I couldn't find the traps.”
“You didn't run ten miles?”
“No, the traps were set only about three miles from where we live and I rather think I lost my way. Then I heard the Injuns—say, I used to call them Indians.”
“So did I,” said Letitia.
“They say Injuns here. Then I heard them, and I run the rest of the way, and then I saw your light. Are you one of Captain John Hopkins' children?”
“I don't know. I don't think I am,” replied Letitia miserably.
“What is your name?”