“I have prayed,” said he. “Our people believe in prayer. I have prayed for the life of this man’s son. Mine were drowned before my eyes—she and my eldest and—the others. Shall a man be more wise than his Maker? I prayed never for their lives, but I have prayed for this man’s son, and he will surely be sent
Salters looked pleadingly at Penn to see if he remembered.
“How long have I been mad?” Penn asked suddenly. His mouth was twitching.
“Pshaw, Penn! You weren’t never mad,” Salters began “Only a little distracted like.”
“I saw the houses strike the bridge before the fires broke out. I do not remember any more. How long ago is that?”
“I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!” cried Dan, and Harvey whimpered in sympathy.
“Abaout five year,” said Disko, in a shaking voice.
“Then I have been a charge on someone for every day of that time. Who was the man?”
Disko pointed to Salters.
“Ye hain’t—ye hain’t!” cried the sea-farmer, twisting his hands together. “Ye’ve more’n earned your keep twice-told; an’ there’s money owin’ you, Penn, besides ha’af o’ my quarter-share in the boat, which is yours fer value received.”
“You are good men. I can see that in your faces. But—”