“But we brought no food, and we must have something to eat. I’m afraid you’re hungry now, Jerry.”
“Oh, not a bit,” was the assurance. “It ain’t so hard for a feller to go all day without eating if he only tries; I know, for haven’t I done it lots of times! Perhaps when night comes again we’ll be able to find something to eat somehow.”
“I have money,” said Ben. “I can buy food.”
“But if you try it now somebody who sees you may send word back to Oakdale. Please don’t try it now, Ben, for truly I’m not hungry. Where’s Pilot?”
For the first time they thought of the little dog, and, to their surprise and dismay, he was gone. Ben, however, was far more concerned than Jerry over this.
“He’ll come back,” declared the blind boy. “He’s gone to hunt for his breakfast, and I know he’ll come back; he always does.”
They lay there for some time, talking of the past and planning for the future. The ray of sunshine that had aroused Ben crept on across the mow, leaving them in shadow, and presently Jerry once more betrayed tokens of drowsiness, slumber again claiming him at last.
“Poor little chap!” murmured Ben with infinite tenderness. “You’ve had a hard time of it, but I’m going to stick by you now and take care of you always. I can do it, and I will.”
The silence in the barn was so profound that he could hear crickets fiddling in the thickets of brown, rain-washed grass outside. With a clatter of hoofs and a rumble of wheels, a horse and carriage passed on the road near by. Ben listened till the sounds died out in the distance, and then after a time he likewise slept once more.
It was the barking of Pilot that next aroused the brothers, and the little dog came scrambling up onto the low mow and sniffed around them, whining strangely. He barked again, a short, sharp note, whereupon Jerry clutched his brother with both hands, whispering excitedly: