“The boy should know better than they. I am surprised, Brother Ephriam, that you should give any credit to their crazy tales.” He spoke in a hard, rasping voice, and Raymond was aware, that for some reason which he did not understand, it was distasteful to Young that there should be any doubts entertained on this point. “What are you going to do with him?” Young demanded, after a moment's silence. The old man looked blank. “It rests with them, not me. I suppose they will try to find his kin.” “Yes, but where, Brother Ephriam?” “In Benson, wherever that is,” and Raymond looked puzzled. He added: “It will not be difficult to learn. I think—” But Young cut him short. “Brother Ephriam, don't think. The boy's father is dead; his friends are dead; what more do you want to know?” Ephriam hesitated; he seemed about to speak, but was silent. There was a long pause. Young looked at him with his uncertain grey eyes, narrowed to a slit. Here was a good man, a man of scruples and convictions, and evidently capable of a most unsaintly stubbornness, in whom it would be neither wise nor expedient to fully confide. At last he said: “It is best for the child that he should remain here with you, Brother Ephriam. Those men can do nothing for him.” “Yet they may not wish to give him up,” interposed Raymond quickly. Young smiled. “They may have to. And you, Brother Ephriam, must round up your shoulders to bear this burden.” “I am willing enough to take the child, if—” “You can't make terms with me. There are no ifs to obedience. Either you do as I wish, or you don't,” said Young, coldly. “This is a matter that has more to it than you can know now. It is not safe for those men to leave here with the child, no good can come of it to them. Do you understand, Brother Ephriam? You will be placing them in great danger. Now are you willing to do that?” There was a sinister significance to what he said beyond the mere meaning of his words that was not lost on the old man. Young continued. “Try them; tell them you are willing that the child should remain with you until such time as he can be sent back to the States. Satisfy them in what manner you choose, but keep the child; and, Brother Ephriam, advise them to remain silent concerning these foolish suspicions of their's. No good can come from talking of them,” and Young turned abruptly from him. Raymond followed Young to his carriage; he meditated rebellion; but, in spite of this transient feeling of hostility to the other's commands, he knew that he would accept the responsibility he was seeking to fasten upon him. It would end in his keeping the child, through fear that a greater wrong might come of it if he did not. These thoughts occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else; and it was only later that he sought for an explanation for Young's interest in the matter, and this explanation was destined to come from a most unexpected source.