CHAPTER V
MARCEL BRAND
For a moment astonishment robbed Steve of speech. Julyman was, perhaps, less affected. He stood beside his boss grinning down at the apparition till his eyes were almost entirely hidden by their closing lids, and his copper skin was wrinkled into a maze of creases.
Steve's ultimate effort was a responsive, "Hello!"
It seemed to meet with the child's approval, for he came trustfully towards the strangers.
"Mummy's sick," he informed them, gazing smilingly up into the white man's face. "The Injuns is all asleep. Pop's all gone away. So's Uncle Cy. Gone long time. There's An-ina and me. That's all. I likes An-ina—only hers always wash me."
The whole story of the post was told. The direct childish mind had taken the short cut which maturity would probably have missed.
Steve had recovered himself, and he smiled down into the pretty, eager, up-turned face.
"What's your name, little man?" he asked kindly.