e 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