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“
Whatever
is
Christian
Cantle
’
s
teeth
a
-
chattering
for
?
”
said
a
boy
from
amid
the
smoke
and
shades
on
the
other
side
of
the
blaze
.
“
Be
ye
a
-
cold
,
Christian
?
”
A
thin
jibbering
voice
was
heard
to
reply
,
“
No
,
not
at
all
.
”
“
Come
forward
,
Christian
,
and
show
yourself
.
I
didn
’
t
know
you
were
here
,
”
said
Fairway
,
with
a
humane
look
across
towards
that
quarter
.
Thus
requested
,
a
faltering
man
,
with
reedy
hair
,
no
shoulders
,
and
a
great
quantity
of
wrist
and
ankle
beyond
his
clothes
,
advanced
a
step
or
two
by
his
own
will
,
and
was
pushed
by
the
will
of
others
half
a
dozen
steps
more
.
He
was
Grandfer
Cantle
’
s
youngest
son
.
“
What
be
ye
quaking
for
,
Christian
?
”
said
the
turf
-
cutter
kindly
.
“
I
’
m
the
man
.
”
“
What
man
?
”
“
The
man
no
woman
will
marry
.
”
“
The
deuce
you
be
!
”
said
Timothy
Fairway
,
enlarging
his
gaze
to
cover
Christian
’
s
whole
surface
and
a
great
deal
more
,
Grandfer
Cantle
meanwhile
staring
as
a
hen
stares
at
the
duck
she
has
hatched
.
“
Yes
,
I
be
he
;
and
it
makes
me
afeard
,
”
said
Christian
.
“
D
’
ye
think
’
twill
hurt
me
?
I
shall
always
say
I
don
’
t
care
,
and
swear
to
it
,
though
I
do
care
all
the
while
.
”
