"There was a sailor came to our place, it's he." "Who killed him?" "Some chaps as was drinking with him, so Bideabout says. They've robbed him--he had a lot of brass." "Dead--is he?" The man ran out. "And what have you got there?" asked the woman. "It's his baby." "How came he by the baby?" "I heard him say his wife was dead, and he were going to carry the child to his wife's sister." "What's the man's name?" "I don't know." "Where did he come from?" "He was a seaman." "Where was he going to put the baby?" "I don't know 'xactly--somewhere Portsmouth way." "What's the man's name?" "I don't know." "How'll you find her?" "I don't know." "Portsmouth is a large place. Are you sure she's in Portsmouth?" "He said Portsmouth way, I think." "Then there be a difficulty in finding her?" "'Spose there will. Will you take the baby?" "I-I--" The woman stared. "What's its name?" "It ain't got none." "Is it a boy or girl?" "I think it's a girl." "How old is it?" "I think he said about six weeks." "Is it healthy?" "I don't know." "Maybe it has the smallpox." "I do not think so. Will you take it?" "I--not I. I know nothin' about it. There's no saying, it might bring diseases into the house, and I must consider my own children. Is it terrible dirty?" "I--I don't think so." "And it hasn't got a name?" "No; the sailor said it was not baptized." "What's the color of its eyes?" "I don't know." "Has it got any hair?" "I have not looked." "P'raps it's an idjot?" "I don't think so." "And is deformed?" "Oh, no." "Well, I can't have no baby here as I don't know nothin about. You can take it over to the Snellings. They may fancy it. I won't have nothin' to do with a babe as ain't got no parents and no name, and ain't got no hair and no color in its eyes. There is my Samuel snorin'. Take the child away. I don't want no measles, and smallpox, and scarlatina, and rickets brought into my house. Quick, take the nasty thing off as fast as you can." Iver shrunk away, left the house, and made his way, carrying the baby, to another cottage a hundred yards distant. There was a lane between them, with a stream running through it, and the banks were high and made the lane dark. The boy stumbled and fell, and though he probably had not hurt the child, he had frightened it, and it set up loud and prolonged screams. With brow bathed in perspiration, and heart beating from alarm, Iver hurried up to the second squatter's cabin, and, without knocking, burst in at the door. "I say," shouted he, "there's been a man killed, and here's a baby yelling, and I don't know what's the matter with it. I stumbled." A man who was pulling off his boots started to his feet. "Stop that darned noise," he said. "My wife--she's bad--got the fever, and can't abide no noise. Stop that din instantly, or I'll kick you out. Who are you, and what do'y mean rushing in on a fellow that way?"