Besides, I'd rather stay with you," he added soothingly, as he slipped the watch and the miniature into his pocket; "then we can both go." And he dropped himself down at his father's side.
The man shook his head feebly, and pointed again to the gold-pieces.
"Take them, David,--hide them," he chattered with pale lips.
Almost impatiently the boy began picking up the money and tucking it into his pockets.
"But, father, I'm not going without you," he declared stoutly, as the last bit of gold slipped out of sight, and a horse and wagon rattled around the turn of the road above.
The driver of the horse glanced disapprovingly at the man and the boy by the roadside; but he did not stop.

After he had passed, the boy turned again to his father.

The man was fumbling once more in his pockets.

This time from his coat he produced a pencil and a small notebook from which he tore a page, and began to write, laboriously, painfully.
David sighed and looked about him.

He was tired and hungry, and he did not understand things at all.