Part 37 (2/2)
”You built that chicken house yourself,” explained Ralph.
”Oh, go on!” said Van incredulously.
”Well, you did.”
”And there was a lady there, dressed in black,” muttered Van, his glance strained dreamily. ”She was good to me. She used to sing sweet songs--just like a mother would. I never had a mother, to remember.”
Van's eyes began to fill with tears. Ralph was touched at the recognition of his mother's gentleness. Emotion had lightened the shadows in Van's mind more powerfully than suggestion or memory.
Ralph felt that he had better rouse his companion from a retrospective mood.
”You're all right now,” he said briskly.
”And I was knocked silly?” observed Van ”I see how it was. I've been like a man in a long sleep. How did I come out of it, though?”
”Just as you went into it--with a shock. I took you for a trip on a locomotive. Just as we got near here you made a sudden jump, rolled down the embankment, your head burst through that fence board yonder, and I thought you were killed.”
Van felt over his head. He winced at a sensitive touch at one spot, but said, with a light laugh:
”I've got a cast-iron skull, I guess! But what made me jump from the locomotive? Did I have daffy fits?”
”Oh, not at all.”
”Well, then?”
”Why,” said Ralph, ”I think the sight of a man in a long linen duster, driving a one-horse gig down this road startled you or attracted your attention, or something of that sort.”
”Ginger!” interrupted Van, jumping to his feet, ”I remember now! It was--him! And I've got to see him. He went that way. I'm off.”
”Hold on! hold on!” called the dismayed Ralph.
But Van heard not, or heeded not. He sprinted for the bend in the road, Ralph hotly at his heels.
CHAPTER XXVIII--MYSTERY
Ralph outran his compet.i.tor, then kept easy pace with him, and did not try to stop him. He recognized a certain obstinacy and impetuousness in Van that he felt he must deal with in a politic manner.
He noticed, too, that Van was not in normal physical trim. The roll down the embankment had wrenched one foot slightly, and when they came to the bend to discover no gig in sight, and a series of other bends ahead, Van halted, breathless and tired.
”Give it up!” he panted, sinking to a dead tree. ”Oh, well! I can catch him up later. Twenty-miles tramp, though.”
”You seem to know who the man in the linen duster is?” ventured Ralph.
”Oh, yes.”
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