French; he spoke this
language with scarcely an accent.

"This is the young boy that you spoke to me about?" he said. "He appears
very well."

"Answer the gentleman," said my father to me.

"Yes, I am quite well," I replied, surprised.

"You have never been ill?"

"I had pneumonia once."

"Ah, when was that?"

"Three years ago. I slept out in the cold all night. My master, who was
with me, was frozen to death, and I got pneumonia."

"Haven't you felt any effects of this illness since?"

"No."

"No fatigue, no perspiration at night?"

"No. When I'm tired it's because I have walked a lot, but I don't get
ill."

He came over to me and felt my arms, then put his head on my heart, then
at my back and on my chest, telling me to take deep breaths. He also
told me to cough. That done he looked at me for a long time. It was then
that I thought he wanted to bite me, his teeth gleamed in such a
terrible smile. A few moments later he left the house with my father.

What did it mean? Did he want to take me in his employ? I should have to
leave Mattia and Capi. No, I wouldn't be a servant to anybody, much less
this man whom I disliked already.

My father returned and told me I could go out if I wished. I went into
the caravan. What was my surprise to find Mattia there. He put his
finger to his lips.

"Go and open the stable door," he whispered, "I'll go out softly behind
you. They mustn't know that I was here."

I was mystified but I did as he asked.

"Do you know who that man was who was with your father?" he asked
excitedly when we were in the street. "It was Mr. James Milligan, your
friend's uncle."

I stood staring at him in the middle of the pavement. He took me by the
arm and dragged me on.

"I was not going out all alone," he continued, "so I went in there to
sleep, but I didn't sleep. Your father and a gentleman came into the
stable and I heard all they said; at first I didn't try to listen but
afterward I did.

"'Solid as a rock,' said the gentleman; 'nine out of ten would have
died, but he pulled through with pneumonia.'

"'How is your nephew?' asked your father.

"'Better. Three months ago the doctors again gave him up, but his mother
saved him once more. Oh, she's a marvelous mother, is Mrs. Milligan.'

"You can imagine when I heard this name if I did not glue my ears to the
window.

"'Then if your nephew is better,' continued your father, 'all you've
done is useless.'

"'For the moment