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 glimme