“What! Was it you who did that?” exclaimed Douglas.
“Me. Snake an’ Nat was right close by my hole, never knowin’ I was into it, an’ Snake was edgin’ Nat on to go down an’ do for ye. When they was gone I wrote that warnin’ an’ snuck down ’long Dickabar an’ left it for ye. I owed ye a good turn anyways, but I done it for Marry more’n for you.”
A moment Douglas sat, realizing what the fugitive had risked in thus issuing from his covert and threading a mile of detective-haunted forest. Then he reached out and grasped the bony hand of the convalescent.
“You’re a man!” he declared.
“I aim to be,” said Steve, with another gulp.
A short, awkward silence followed. Marion, sober-faced, tenderly stroked the shaggy black hair until Steve dodged, as if the caress were becoming torment. Uncle Eb glared fixedly at one of the cats. Douglas looked at all three; then arose as if reaching a determination.
“This isn’t the way I’d thought of it, but it’s as good as any,” he said quietly. “I had intended first, Marion, to take you to an elderly friend of mine in town—Mrs. Wright, who takes a keen interest in young artists and who undoubtedly would remember your father. She’s a dear old soul, and I know she’d be only too glad to make everything easy for you; she’s a patroness of that school I spoke of, and besides that she could coach you on all those little things a lady of her type knows so well—speech and manners and clothes and the other points you’ll have to learn in order to ‘be somebody,’ as you say. And I’d rustle a job down in the financial district and keep my promise to your mother—to look out for you as if you were my sister. And when you’d had time to see how you liked the change, and to find out what the city boys looked like, and so on—then I’d ask you a question.
“I wanted to give you a fair chance—not to jump this question at you before you fairly got your eyes open to this new world of yours. But circumstances alter cases. I’ll take you to Mrs. Wright just the same, but I’m going to ask the question now instead of later. Like Steve, I’m not afraid to say it right out in front of everybody. What’s more, Steve has the right to know what’s what. And——”
He paused. The wide gray eyes dwelt unwaveringly on his. So did the old steel-blue eyes and the young brown ones.
“The first time we met,” he went on, with a little smile, “you said you were ‘Marry for short.’ I’m asking you if you’ll make it ‘marry for good.’ If so, we’ll hunt up a parson when we tramp into New Paltz, and go down the river as Mr. and Mrs. Hampton.”