As Sandy spoke Silas Hemphill's eyes took on a new glow, and again he thrust out both hands to seize those of the boys.
"How wonderful are the ways of Providence!" he muttered, in a way that gave the listening boys a start. "To think that my life should have been saved by the sons of David Armstrong, of all men!"
"Then you know our father?" demanded Bob.
"No, I have never met him," came the reply. "But I have heard much about him in the country I happened to pass through while on my way here from Carolina, where my former home lay."
The rescued man looked at them both, and Bob was thrilled to see tears in his eyes. Why should this stranger be so moved at sight of David Armstrong's two boys? He spoke of having heard about their father—could that have been down in Virginia, in the town which had been so cruel to the man who valued his honor as he did his very life?
Bob saw a faint gleam of light. He hardly dared believe it at first, in fear lest it prove only a hollow mockery. Still, he could not resist saying:
"You say you heard much about our father, sir,—was it to his credit that these things were said; or did they tell you the hateful, lying stories that drove him to come far away from those who were once his neighbors and friends?"
"My boy, I heard that which your father would give much to know. While I stopped for a few days in the town where you dwelt, there was a serious fray in a place where strong drink was sold. One man, a black, was badly wounded. His name was Scipio, Black Scipio he was called, and he used to work in the same tobacco warehouse where David Armstrong was employed. Before he died the man confessed that it was his hand that fired the barn, for the destruction of which your father was blamed. And now Jason Diggett, conscience stricken for having driven an honest man into exile, wishes to hear from your father in order that he make amends, in so far as pounds, shillings and pence may heal the wound!"