Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/40

Robertson—merely a very ordinary young middle-class Englishman with a strong sense of championship where anything forlorn and helpless was concerned. A lost dog, a frightened child, never appealed to him in vain, and this boy was leading something less than a dog’s life. A sudden thought came to Robertson. He was not a man of tremendous impulses—not impulses with far-reaching consequences, anyway, but this thought struck home very forcibly. There was certainly something in Tony which arrested quick interest, if not sympathy.

“I don’t believe it would be a bad line,” Robertson thought, “if I could take him out of this and put him on Paranui. He’d have a chance of growing up strong and sound. It wouldn’t be any trouble to me, and I’d like to do something for the kid. Antony St. Croix—C-r-o-i-x . . . it’s a Jersey name, he said. . . . He’s so anxious to be a man! I wonder how long he’ll sleep? Poor little beggar, he needed it. . . .”

It was late in the afternoon when Tony woke, with a start and a shuddering sob, to find Robertson standing over him.

“What is it?” he gasped, scrambling to his feet.

“It’s all right. I never called you. You’ve been asleep too? No, it’s not time to go back to the hotel yet . . . I want to have a bit of a talk with you before we go, St. Croix.”

Tony looked rather apprehensive, and Robertson laughed.

“It’s all right, I say. You know what I was telling you about my place in New Zealand? I’ve been out there ten years now; this was my first visit home. Well, I wondered if you’d care to come out there with me.”

Tony’s eyes stretched wide; he looked almost afraid.

“But—what would I do there?” he said.

“Do? Oh, there’s always work on a station. Never fear, there’ll be enough for you to do. And you could