There was a cartridge web across its front, with loops, and
after he had looked long and long at his reflection, the boy thrust
both his thumbs into the belt it made.
Then: "Them's fer ketridges," he announced solemnly.
He scowled judiciously and nodded.
And, "I'll hev to git me some, the first thing in the mornin'," he said.
That was his only remark then, and yet Caleb felt amply repaid. Later
he had more to say, but for the time being he merely followed Caleb
back downstairs, walking very stiff and straight except when, with
every few steps, he leaned over the better to see the looped webbing
across his middle.
And at table that evening the man came to know another trait in the odd
little stranger's odd makeup which, coupled with those which he had
already mentally tabulated for future private contemplation, set him to
wondering more than a little.
With the appearance of the first dish upon the table that night the boy
was very frankly nonplussed at the array of implements upon each side
of his plate, placed there for him to manipulate. He scarcely knew one
from the other, and the separate uses for each not at all. But the way
in which he met the problem made Caleb lift his eyes and meet Sarah's
inscrutable glance with something akin to triumph. For there was no
awkwardness in the boy's procedure, no flushing embarrassment, no
shame-facedness nor painfully self-conscious attempt to cover his
ignorance.
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