Brandon nodded curtly, and wondered why the tramp (as he supposed him) did not go along.
“Look here, mate,” went on the man, after a moment, “I’m lookin’ for somebody as lives about here, by the name of Tarr——”
“Why, you’re on the Tarr place now,” replied Brandon, with sudden interest. “That’s my name, too.”
“No, it isn’t now!” exclaimed the stranger, in surprise.
A quick flash of eagerness came over his face as he spoke.
“You’re not Brandon Tarr?” he added.
“Yes, sir,” replied Don, in surprise.
“Not Captain Horace Tarr’s son! God bless ye, my boy. Give us your hand!”
The man seized the hand held out to him half doubtfully, and shook it warmly, at the same time seating himself beside the boy.
“You knew my father?” asked Brandon, not very favorably impressed by the man’s appearance, yet knowing no real reason why he should not be friendly.