“See here, Benny, do you think you could take care of some papers for me to-morrow?”
The child nodded interestedly. “What are they?” he asked.
Stephen took the packet from the pocket of his flannel hunting shirt. “I am going to give you these papers to take care of for me, Benny,” he said. “Now you are to remember, if anything should happen to me they are to go back to Benson.” He paused hopelessly; could the child understand?
“Yes, sir, they are to go back to Benson.”
“Now think, Benny, how would you send them there?”
“I'd give them to Mr. Bushrod, or to my pop, or Mr. Walsh.”
“Good, so you would, Benny; they would know perfectly what to do; but if anything should happen to them, you are to keep in mind just two things, the name of Benson, and the name of Landray. Do you think you can remember?”
The child laughed softly. “Why, of course I can, Mr. Landray. I can remember you; and Benson's the name of the place where my pop was a little boy.”
“Yes, but do you know where Benson is?”
The child's face fell for an instant, then it lighted up with sudden intelligence, he turned quickly and pointed to the East. “It's there. That's Benson,” he said.