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David’s startled cry drowned the sound of the overturned stool as he sprang toward the  foremost of the two men.

“Aye, David,” answered Nathan Lindall in his quiet voice, taking the boy into his  arms with a mighty hug. “Art well?”

“But—but how happens it you are here?” stammered David. “Is it really you? I can scarce believe my eyes! And Obid, too!”

“What be left o’ me,” replied Obid Dawkin grimly.

But he smiled as David took his hand and threw an arm over his shoulders, and there  was a suspicious moistness in his pale eyes  for some moments after.

“’Tis a long story, lad,” Nathan Lindall was saying, “and ’twill keep till we be on  our way; for Major Willard tells me that  naught will do but that you must accompany