"Father!" he cried. "Father Orin!"
"Bless my soul--it's young David!" exclaimed the priest.
There was as much relief in his tone as in the boy's, and he turned
hastily to the horseman at his side.
"Doctor, this is a young friend of mine--a member of Judge Knox's
family. You have heard of the judge. And, David, this is Doctor Colbert.
You, no doubt, have heard of him."
David murmured something. He had never before been introduced to any
one; and had never before been so acutely conscious that he had no
surname. The doctor sent his horse forward, coming close to the pony's
side. He held out his hand--as David felt rather than saw--and he took
the boy's hand in a warm, kind clasp. It was the first time that a man
had given David his hand as one frank, earnest, fearless man gives it to
another--but never to a woman, and rarely to a boy. David did not know
what it was that he felt as their hands met in the darkness, but he knew
that the touch was like balm to his bruised pride, which had been aching
so sorely throughout the lonely ride. Father Orin now rode nearer on
the other side, and although no more than the dimmest outline of any
object could be seen, the boy saw that the priest continued to turn his
head and cast backward glances into the dark forest.
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