For the
latter was not even aware of his presence there behind the iron fence;
he was walking with his head up, thin face thrust forward like that of
a young and overly eager setter with the bird in plain sight. The
world of hunger in that strained and staring visage helped Caleb to
master his mirth, and when, at a tentative cough from him, the small
figure halted dead in his tracks and wheeled, even the vestige of a
smile left the wide-waisted watcher's lips. Then Caleb had his first
full view of the boy's features.
There were wide, deep shadows beneath the grey eyes, doubly noticeable
because of the heavy fringe of the lashes that swept above them; there
was a pallid, bluish circle around the thin and tight-set lips. And
the lean cheeks were very, very pale, both with the heat of the sun and
a fatigue now close to exhaustion. But the eyes themselves, as they
met Caleb's, were alight with 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.
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