SON OF THE WIND
"If you're not—" Carron stood a moment and looked the poor soul through. "He's more afraid of me than he is of himself," he thought. "Very good," he said aloud, and turned about. "And where is this place that I am to find you?"
Ferrier pulled on his other boot and got upon his feet. "I can show you from the other room," he said, and led the way.
In his excitement he seemed to be oblivious of the squalid surroundings he had blushed for, his own half-clad condition, and even the presence of the boy George. He walked to the window and shoved him aside as if he had been inanimate stuff to make room for Carron. The horse-breaker touched his companion's arm. "You had better send him out, hadn't you?"
Ferrier threw a hasty glance at the child who sat, as he had been pushed, a little farther along on the bench. "Lord, no! he never understands anything, we might talk all day. Look down there," he broke off, pointing through the dirty glass, "down there by the edge of the pines where you see that one that is taller than the others. That is the place where the trail begins. That's where I'll be."
"But," Carron began quickly, astonished, and forgetting everything but astonishment, "on that trail you can't get a horse through."
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