"Is there anything in it about a white waterfall that is on the way to
heaven out of Black Fernando's hell?" I questioned.
The youngster put his head on one side and looked as if he was turning
things over in his mental storehouse, then he gave me a quick, shrewd
glance and burst out laughing.
"Well?" I growled. "What's the grin for?"
"What has Bunyan got to do with my business?" he asked. "I came to sign
you up for a mate's job on _The Waif_, and I am in a hurry."
"Yes, I know," I grumbled, "but I thought you might have heard something
of a white waterfall. I'm not sure that it is mentioned in 'Pilgrim's
Progress,' but it seems to taste of Bunyan."
"P'raps so," said the youngster, "but Bunyan isn't in our line at
present. Captain Newmarch told me to hurry back to the yacht, as he
wants to get away by sunset, so if you're ready we'll make a start. My
name is Holman, Will Holman."
We walked up the quiet street together and I began to like Will Holman.
One couldn't help but like him. He had the frank, open ways of a boy,
but the cut of his jaw and the manner in which he minted his words led
you to believe that he would give a man's account of himself if any one
pushed him up against a wall.
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