“Bomba has not two ways of speaking,” answered the lad. “The words from his lips are the same as the words in his heart. Bomba does not care for the gold of Japazy. He would not know what to do with it if Japazy gave it to him. May the gods lay their curse on Bomba if he is not speaking from a clean heart!”
Another long pause ensued.
“Is it true that the stranger does not even know the name of his father or that of his mother?” asked one of the group.
“Bomba does not surely know,” returned the lad. “But when Sobrinini saw Bomba she called him Bartow. And Jojasta of the Moving Mountain called him Bartow. They thought Bomba was Bartow or Bartow’s ghost. So if Bomba looked so much like Bartow, it may be that Bartow was Bomba’s father. And Sobrinini spoke of Laura. And Casson spoke of Laura. It is in Bomba’s heart that that may have been the name of his mother.”
Was it fancy, or did Abino again steal a glance at that picture on the wall?
“It is well,” said the oldest of the group as he rose to his feet, an example followed by the others. “We will think over what the stranger has said.”
The old men went out of the room silently, in single file. But the silence persisted only until they had gone some distance down the corridor that led to the large hall. Then they broke out into excited speech.
Bomba would have given a great deal to know what they were saying, but they were too far away for him to hear them distinctly.
After they had gone out of the door of the building, however, their way led them under his window. They were still talking excitedly, and, as he strained his ears, these words floated up to him:
“Bartow! Was not that the name of the man Japazy killed?”