All his bravery was gone--all his assurance. If his life had depended on it not one word of an address on behalf of his fellows could he have uttered.
Joan saw his confusion, and mercifully came to his rescue.
"You wish to see me?" she inquired, with a smile which plunged the boy into even more hopeless confusion.
As no answer was forthcoming she looked appealingly at the other faces.
"It's very kind of you all to come here," she said gently. "Is--is there anything I can--do for you?"
Suddenly Beasley's voice made itself heard.
"Git busy, Ike, you're spokesman," he cried. "Git on with the presentation--ladle out the ad--dress. You're kind o' lookin' foolish."
He followed up his words with his unpleasant laugh, and it was the sting the youthful leader needed.
He turned fiercely on the speaker, his momentary paralysis all vanished.
"Ef I'm spokesman," he cried, "guess we don't need no buttin' in from Beasley Melford." Then he turned again quickly. "Astin' your pardon, miss," he added apologetically.
"That's all right," said Joan, smiling amiably. "What are you 'spokesman' for?"
"Can't rightly say, missie." Then he jerked his head in his comrades' direction. "Guess if you was to ast _them_, they'd call theirselves _men_."
"I didn't say 'who,' I said 'what,'" Joan protested, with a laugh at his desperately serious manner.
"'What?'" he murmured, smearing his dirty forehead with a horny hand in the effort of his task. Then he brightened. "Why, gener'ly speakin'," he went on, with sudden enthusiasm, "they ain't much better'n skippin' sheep. Y' see they want to but darsent. So--wal--they jest set me up to sling the hot air."
The girl looked appealingly at the rough faces for assistance. But instead of help she only beheld an expression of general discontent turned on the unconscious back of the spokesman. And coming back to the boy she pursued the only course possible.
"I--I don't think I quite understand," she said.
"I'm durned sure you can't," he cried heartily. "They jest think it a rotten kind of a job handin' a red-ha'r'd gal a few words an' an a'mighty fine hunk o' gold. That's cos they ain't been dragged up jest right. You can't expect elegant feedin' at a hog trough. Now it's kind o' diff'rent wi' me. I----"