“Let’s get a drink of water,” he said.
The night-watchman led us to a spring and answered, encouragingly, Farrell’s inquiry about a possible job.
“Go up and ask the boss,” he said. “He’s just finished his breakfast. That’s his house,” he added, pointing to the shanty with the light in the window.
From the foot of the path I watched Farrell climb to the shanty door and knock. The door opened and the voices of two men came faintly down to me. My hopes rose, for it was not merely a question and a decisive reply, but the give and take of continued dialogue. The suspense had grown to physical suffering, when I saw Farrell turn from the door and begin to descend the path.
I could not see his face distinctly; but, as he drew nearer, I caught its expression of distress. The half-frightened, worried bewilderment that I had noticed on the day before was back in his eyes, as he stood looking into mine, evidently expecting me to speak. I remained silent.
“I’ve got a job,” he said, presently, and I could have struck him for the joy of it.
“Me troubles is just begun, for the whole town knows me for a bum,” he added, while his anxious eyes moved restlessly behind frowning brows. I said nothing, but waited until I could catch his eye at rest. Then out it came, a little painfully:
“I’ll go to the boarding-house to-night, when me day’s work is done, and put up there, if the missus can take me.”
“Good,” I said, and I waited again until his gaze was steady upon me.
For a day we had tramped together, and slept together for a night, and, quite of his own accord, he had given me his confidence. We were parting, now that he had found work, and I hoped that I might receive the final mark of his trust, so I waited.