idered before replying; either his scrutiny of Alan
reassured him, or he recalled nothing having to do with his residence
near Escanaba which disturbed him. "Yes; once," he said.

"Your father was Azen Papo?"

"He's dead," the Indian replied. "Not my father, anyway. Grandfather.
What about him?"

"That's what I want to ask you," Alan said. "When did he die and how?"

Jo Papo got up and stood leaning his back against a tree. So far from
being one who was merely curious about Indians, this stranger perhaps
was coming about an Indian claim--to give money maybe for injustices
done in the past.

"My grandfather die fifteen years ago," he informed them. "From cough,
I think."

"Where was that?" Alan asked.

"Escanaba--near there."

"What did he do?"

"Take people to shoot deer--fish--a guide. I think he plant a little
too."

"He didn't work on the boats?"

"No; my father, he work on the boats."

"What was his name?"

"Like me; Jo Papo too. He's dead."

"What is your Indian name?"

"Flying Eagle."

"What boats did your father work on?"

"Many boats."

"What did he do?"

"Deck hand."

"What boat did he work on last?"

"Last? How do I know? He went away one year and didn't come back? I
suppose he was drowned from a boat."

"What year was that?"

"I was little then; I do not know."

"How old were you?"

"Maybe eight years; maybe nine or ten."

"How old are you now?"

"Thirty, maybe."

"Did you ever hear of Benjamin Corvet?"

"Who?"

"Benjamin Corvet."

"No."

Alan turned to Constance; she had been listening intently, but she made
no comment. "That is all, then," he said to Papo; "if I find out
anything to your advantage, I'll let you know." He had aroused, he
understood, expectations of benefit in these poor Indians. Something
rose in Alan's throat and choked him. Those of whom Benjamin Corvet
had so laboriously kept trace were, very many of them, of the sort of
these Indians; that they had never heard of Benjamin Corvet was not
more significant than that they were people of whose existence Benjamin
Corvet could not have been expected to be aware. What conceivable bond
could there have been between Alan's father and such poor people as
these? Had his father wronged these people? Had he owed them
something? This thought, which had been growing stronger with each
succeeding step of Alan's investigations, chilled and horrified him
now. Revolt against his father mor