“Oh, no, miss,” said the man reassuringly; “he'd never a-died without our a-hearin' of it; still, it's some old he's a-gettin', is Larry.”
“He's a good strong man yet, though,” Courage replied, not willing to admit the possibility of waning powers in her hero.
“Faith, and I know he's a good man, miss, and no doubt, too, but his strength will be as his day.”
“But you don't know anything about where he is now?” Courage asked rather hopelessly.
“No, not for this twelvemonth, as I was a-tellin' ye; but like as not some of the men has heard some word on him. Gang back wi' me and we'll speir 'em a question or two,” whereupon he extended his hand, which Courage took rather reluctantly, it was such a powerful-looking hand; but there proved to be nothing rough in the way it closed over the small brown hand she placed in it. So side by side, in this friendly fashion, they walked up the dock to where the men were unloading a Southern steamer.
“Has ony o' ye heard a word o' Larry Starr o' late?” called Big Bob, but in a tone so different from the one in which he had spoken to Courage, that she gave a little start of surprise, and then hoped he had not seen it. Most of the men shook their heads in the negative. “Niver a wurrud,” answered an old Irishman. Indeed, only one of the number made no reply whatsoever, so that Courage thought he could not have heard. It was his place to free the huge iron hook from the bales, after they had been landed on the wharf, and he seemed all absorbed in his work. Fortunately, however, he had heard, and as he stood watching the hook as it slowly swung back aboard of the vessel, he called out, “Yes, I has some word on him, Bob; anybody 'quiring for him?”
“O' course there is, just the verra little leddy what I've here by the hand. If ye'd eyes worth the name, John, ye'd seen her 'fore this!”