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Updated: May 14, 2025
"Pardon me, sir, but I cannot tell you that just yet. I know where he is. I can bring him to you on two days' notice. But, before I do that, I feel that, in justice to myself, I should receive some compensation, not only for the care of the child through five years of his life, but also for the time, toil, and money spent in restoring him to you." Burnham's brow darkened. "Ah! I see," he said.
He felt that he could speak a little more strongly now of Ralph's identity with Mrs. Burnham's son without endangering his cause. "Can you remember," he said, "nothing about the lad's appearance that impressed you now that you know the claim set up for hi that impressed you with a sense of his relationship to you?" "Nothing, sir, nothing whatever.
"Chop away!" he was shouting, "but I'll git SOME o' ye when this pole comes down." Above the din rose John Burnham's voice, stern and angry, calling Jason's name. The student with the axe had halted at the unmistakable sincerity of the boy's threat.
Burnham's narrative ends. What happened to Wilson and his gallant companions, and the exact manner of their end after Burnham and his two comrades left them, is known only through the reports of natives who took part in the fight. This, however, is certain: since the immortal company of Greeks died at Thermopylæ, few, if any, such stands have been made in the face of inevitable death.
"Then, crier," said the judge, "you may adjourn the court until Monday next, at two o'clock in the afternoon." The result of the trial seemed to be a foregone conclusion. Every one said there was no doubt, now, that Ralph was really Robert Burnham's son. People even wondered why Mrs. Burnham did not end the matter by acknowledging the boy and taking him to her home.
Robert Burnham's curiosity was aroused. Here was a boy who was willing to forego the pleasures of the circus that he might gratify some greater desire; a strong and noble one, the man felt sure, to call for such a sacrifice.
The door was carefully closed and they soon heard the slight creak of the weighted wheel as Droop set off with the trunks for Burnham's swamp. "Now, then," said Phoebe, bustling into the parlor, "let's get our things all together ready to start. Have ye got your satchel with the money in it?" Rebecca gently slapped a black leather bag hanging at her side. "Here 'tis," she said.
"He's coming sure, because his daughter is a widow, and needs that money." "I held his notes," the deacon explained, as though really anxious to offer an excuse. "I can prove it." "Prove it to Burnham's ghost. He may go back." "B back where?" "To his grave. He sleeps uneasy to-night." "Be you crazy?" "Look behind you quick!" The receiver dropped. Donaldson could hear it swinging against the wall.
Sharpman began the proceedings by offering in evidence the files of the Register's court, showing the date of Robert Burnham's death, the issuing of letters of administration to his widow, and the inventory and appraisement of his personal estate. Then he called Simon Craft to the witness-stand.
"Maybe 'cause they're told to," he shouted. "Aye that's the reason as like as not; 'cause they're told to." "Who are 'they'?" "Old Gipsy Hawkins as used to be Sir Burnham's under-keeper. What's he doin' of up there at Park all day? Layin' traps and such that's what he's doin' of. My son Jim knows it, he do. My son Jim found one of 'em and left best part of a pair of trousers in it, too!"
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