“But ten years ago!” Rodney insisted.
“Oh, yes. Now let me think. It was a—oh, yes! That was John Travis.”
“J—John Travis!” June stammered, fairly overcome with joy. “Oh, Rodney, you surely are a wonder!
“Please!” There were tears in her eyes as she turned to the old man. “Please tell me all about him! He—he is my father.”
“Your father? Yes, so he might be. There was a small child and a woman, a little old woman that wasn’t his wife nor his mother—
“But I can’t tell you much, miss,” he went on, “not a whole lot. He didn’t live here long. Wanderin’ sort, he was. A gold prospector, he was. Made a heap of money at it. Short, jolly sort of man, he was, short and jolly.”
“See?” Rodney reminded her, “Your memory was O. K.”
“Short and jolly—” June murmured, “I can’t understand. In the crystal ball—”
The little old man was talking again. “He seemed to like me, this John Travis. When he went away in an airplane, he—”
“Airplane!” June breathed.