They thought that she was her own mother. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. It was neither good nor bad. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. She held out her hand frankly. "I can, and will. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. I know all about it.
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