intently,--his face almost uncanny in its lack of childishness.

For a time there was absolute silence, the hush of a death-chamber; then
of a sudden the boy was conscious that the man was looking at him in a
way he had never looked before. Deep down below our consciousness, far
beneath the veneer of civilization, there is an instinct, relic of the
vigilant savage days, that warns us of personal danger. By this instinct
the lad now interpreted the other's gaze, and knew that it meant ill for
him. For some reason which he could not understand, this man, this big
animal, was his mortal enemy; and, in the manner of smaller animals, he
began to consider an avenue of escape.

"Ben," spoke the man, "come here!"

Tom Blair was sober now, and wore a look of determination upon his face
that few had ever seen there before; but to his surprise the boy did not
respond. He waited a moment, and then said sharply:

"Ben, I'm speaking to you. Come here at once!"

For answer there was a tightening of the lad's blue eyes and an added
watchfulness in the incongruously long childish figure; but that was
all.

Another lagging minute passed, wherein the two regarded each other
steadily. The man's eyes dropped first.

"You little devil!" he muttered, and the passion began showing in his
voice. "I believe you knew what I was thinking all the time! Anyway,
you'll know now. You said awhile ago that I was to blame for your mother