Then Ill Come Back to You | Page 4

hat, were of a size in keeping with the boots.
His trousers had once been white cotton drill, but the whiteness had

long before given up the unequal struggle against grime and grease and
subsided to a less conspicuous, less perishable grey. They had been cut
off just below the knees and, unhemmed, hung flapping with every step
he took above a stretch of white-socked, spindly shanks. But it was the
coat he wore which held Caleb spellbound. It was of a style popularly
known as a swallowtail, faced with satin as to lapels and once
gracefully rounded to a long, bisected skirt in the rear. The satin facings
were gone and the original color of the fabric, too, had faded to a shiny,
bottle-green. But the long skirts--at least all that was left of them--still
flapped bravely, as did the trousers. For they, like the nether garments,
had been cut off, with more regard for haste than accuracy, so that the
back of the coat cleared the ground by a good foot and a half. The
sleeves, rolled back from two slender, browned wrists, were cuffed
with a six-inch stretch of striped, soiled lining.
For a time Caleb had been at a loss to make out the object which the
boy carried upon one shoulder, balanced above a blanket tight-rolled
and tied with string. Not until the grotesque little figure was within a
dozen paces of him did he recognize it, and then, at the same moment
that he caught a glimpse of an old and rusted revolver strapped to the
boy's narrow waist, he realized what it was. The boy was toting a
double-springed steel trap, big enough it seemed to take all four feet of
any bear that ever walked--and it was beautifully dull with oil!
Caleb stood and stared, mouth agape. A moment or two earlier he had
had to fight off an almost uncontrollable desire to roar with laughter,
but that mood had passed somehow as the boy came nearer. For the
latter was not even aware of his presence there behind the iron fence;
he was walking with his head up, thin face thrust forward like that of a
young and overly eager setter with the bird in plain sight. The world of
hunger in that strained and staring visage helped Caleb to master his
mirth, and when, at a tentative cough from him, the small figure halted
dead in his tracks and wheeled, even the vestige of a smile left the
wide-waisted watcher's lips. Then Caleb had his first full view of the
boy's features.
There were wide, deep shadows beneath the grey eyes, doubly

noticeable because of the heavy fringe of the lashes that swept above
them; there was a pallid, bluish circle around the thin and tight-set lips.
And the lean cheeks were very, very pale, both with the heat of the sun
and a fatigue now close to exhaustion. But the eyes themselves, as they
met Caleb's, were alight with a fire which afterward, when he had had
more time to ponder it, made him remember the pictured eyes of the
children of the Crusades. They fairly burned into his own, and they
checked the first half-jocular words of greeting which had been
trembling upon his lips. His voice was only grave and kindly when he
began to speak.
"You--you look a trifle tired, young man," he said then. "Are
you--going far?"
The boy touched his lips delicately with the point of his tongue. His
gravity more than matched that of his questioner.
"Air--air thet the--city?"
The words were soft of accent and a little drawling; there was an
accompanying gesture of one thumb thrown backward over a thin
shoulder. But Caleb had to smile a little at the breathless note in the
query.
"The city?" he echoed, a little puzzled. "The city! Well, now--I----" and
he chuckled a bit.
The boy caught him up swiftly, almost sharply.
"Thet's--ain't thet Morrison?" he demanded.
And then Caleb had a glimmer of comprehension. He nodded.
"Yes," he answered quietly. "That's the city. That's Morrison down
there."
The shoulders of the ancient coat lifted and fell with a visible sigh as
the strange little figure turned again, head keenly forward, to gaze

hungrily down at the town in the valley. And Caleb translated that
long-drawn breath correctly; without stopping to reason it out, he knew
that it meant fulfillment of a dream most marvelous in anticipation, but
even more wonderful in its coming true. Words would have failed
where that single breath sufficed. The man remained quiet until the boy
finally turned back to him, eased the heavy trap to his other shoulder
and wet his lips once more.
"I thought it war," he murmured, and a thread of awe wove through the
words. "I thought