Harry King lifted his head and looked at the other, then resumed his former position. “Thank you,” was all he said.
“You’ve been well bred. You’re in trouble. I ask you what is your true name and what you have done?”
The young man did not speak. He lay still as if he had heard nothing, but the other saw his hands clinch into knotted fists and the muscles of his arms grow rigid. His 200 heart beat heavily and the blood roared in his ears. At last he lifted his head and looked back at the big man and spoke monotonously.
“I gave you my name––all the name I have.” His face was white in the dim light and the lids drew close over his gray eyes.
“You prefer to lie to me? I ask in good faith.”
“All the name I have is the one I gave you, Harry King.”
“And you will hold to the lie?” They looked steadily into each other’s eyes. The young man nodded. “And there was more I asked of you.”
Then the young man turned away from the keen eyes that had held him and sat up in the fodder and clasped his knees with his hands and looked straight out before him, regarding nothing––nothing but his own thoughts. A strange expression crept over his face,––was it fear––or was it an inward terror? Suddenly he put out his hand with a frantic gesture toward the darkest corner of the place, “It’s there,” he cried in a voice scarcely above a whisper, then hid his eyes and moaned. At the sight, the big man’s face softened.
“Lad, lad, ye’re in trouble. I saved your body as it hung over the cliff––and the Lord only knows how ye were saved. I took ye home and laid ye in my own bunk,––and looked on your face––and there my heart cried on the Lord for the first time in many years. I had forsworn the company of men, and of all women,––and the faith of my fathers had died in me,––but there, as I looked on your face––the lost years came back. And now––ye’re only Harry King. Only Harry King.”
“That’s all.” The young man’s lips set tightly and the 201 cords of his neck stood out. Nothing was lost to the eyes that watched him so intently.