OCR Text |
Show WORTHING FARM/18 lifted heavier loads myself!" And to prove it he bent and lifted the stack of lumber alone. The men on the tower gave a great heave and the wood moved higher up, out of Big Peter's reach, and he shouted up, "That's the way, boys! Pull!" Elijah, Alana, Worin, and John stood at the edge of the forest road. They had never seen such a building in their lives, and they didn't believe that it could stand. Yet the tall tower didn't even sway as the lumber slowly crept skyward at the end of the ropes. Suddenly a boy about eight years old with light blond hair pulled away from the crowd by the building and walked curiously toward the family at the edge of the clearing. "Who are you!" he called out in a high, piping voice. Elijah and Alana didn't answer, but when the boy came close enough Worin spoke up, "I'm Worin. This is John." The eight-year-old thrust out his hand and said, "I'm little Peter. This is my father's inn." Elijah only looked at him. The boy was attractive, looked like Elijah's brother. But his eyes were blue. Like Elijah's. Like Grannam's. He had the gift, and Elijah looked at the boy with hatred. Then Big Peter took his eyes off his work and noticed them. "Well come!" he cried, striding toward them on huge legs, "You're early but there's room for you at the inn, if you don't mind sleeping on the-Elijah!" He was already going fast, but when he recognized his brother he broke into a run. In a moment he arrived and embraced his passive brother and threw John and Worin into the air and caught them, laughing and saying, "Well come, I'm glad to see |