THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
the window of a small cabin built partly of rock and partly of logs.
Instinctively the two men stopped. Pete said in a low tone, as one would speak in a sacred presence, "He is there. Come on, Dad. Come, other man. Don't be scared."
Still the boy's companions hesitated. Mr. Howitt asked, "Who, boy? who is there? Do you know who it is?"
"No, no, not me. Nobody can't know nothin', can they?"
"Hopeless case, Daniel; hopeless. Too bad, too bad," muttered the physician, laying his hand upon his friend's shoulder.
The shepherd tried again, "Who does Pete say it is?"
"Oh, Pete says it's him, just him."
"But who does Pete say he is?" suggested Dr. Coughlan.
Again the boy's voice lowered to a whisper, "Sometimes Pete says it must be God, 'cause he's so good. Dad says God is good an' that he takes care of folks, an' he sure does that. 'Twas him that scared Wash Gibbs an' his crowd that night. An' he sent the gold to you, Dad; God's gold it was; he's got heaps of it. He killed that panther, too, when it was a goin' to fight Young Matt. Pete knows. You see, Dad, when Pete is with him, I ain't nobody no more.
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