“Well?”
“If—if you—are you my father?” asked Joe, in trembling voice, holding out his hands.
“Your father!” cried the man in unmistakable surprise. “What is your name?”
“Joe Duncan.”
“Joe Duncan? Did Duncan have a son?”
“Yes, and I’m the boy!” went on Joe, eagerly, yet a doubt began creeping into his heart. “But are you Mr. Nathaniel Duncan?”
The old man paused a moment, and then said gently:
“No, my boy. I’m Harry Stanton, keeper of Rockypoint light.”
“But my father!” exclaimed Joe. “I understood he was here! Where is he?”
“He was here,” went on Mr. Stanton, as he leaned on his hoe and looked compassionately at the lad standing before him; “but he went away more than a week ago.”