"You don't know what you've missed, Brokaw. Of course,
it's none of my business, but you've got a home--somewhere--" Brokaw
shook his head again.
"Been in the service ten years," he said. "I've got a mother living with
my brother somewhere down in York State. I've sort of lost track of them.
Haven't seen 'em in five years."
Billy was looking at him steadily. Slowly he rose to his feet, lifted his
manacled hands, and turned down the light.
"Hurts my eyes," he said, and he laughed frankly as he caught the
suspicious glint in Brokaw's eyes. He seated himself again, and leaned
over toward the other. "I haven't talked to a white man for three
months," he added, a little hesitatingly. "I've been hiding--close. I had
a dog for a time, and he died, an' I didn't dare go hunting for another.
I knew you fellows were pretty close after me. But I wanted to get enough
fur to take me to South America. Had it all planned, an' SHE was going to
join me there--with the kid. Understand? If you'd kept away another
month--"
There was a husky break in his voice, and he coughed to clear it.
"You don't mind if I talk, do you--about her, an' the kid? I've got to do
it, or bust, or go mad. I've got to because--to-day--she was
twenty-four--at ten o'clock in the morning--an' it's our wedding day--"
The half gloom hid from Brokaw what was in the other's face. And then
Billy laughed almost joyously.
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