" "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. They were sitting alone, Lucy. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. His figure was uncommonly slim even for his age, which could not be more than thirteen; and the looseness of his garb made him appear thinner than he was in reality. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. Manning displayed distress. My foster mom works there as a second job. And she is very young, younger than her years.
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