A knock at the door interrupted him. Mary opened it, to find a tall, lean figure standing on the threshold.
“Why, it’s Jed Hopkins!” cried Allan. “Come in! Come in!”
“Sure I will,” laughed Jed, stooping a little as he entered the door. “An’ how is the kid?”
“The kid’s first-rate,” Allan assured him, clasping warmly the great palm held out to him. “Mary and Jack,” he went on, turning to the others, “this is the man who saved my life. He was on fire himself and the flames were all about him, but he stopped long enough to get hold of me and pull me out.”
“Oh, shet up!” protested Jed. “I didn’t stop at all. I jest sort o’ hooked on to you as I was goin’ past.”
Mary came up to him, all her heart in her face.
“We can’t thank you,” she said. "They ain’t no use in our tryin’ t’ do that. But if that boy’d died like that—it—it—it would ’a’ broke our hearts."
“An’ this is th’ feller they think I’ll rob,” broke in Jack.
“Rob?” repeated Jed, looking at him.
“Do ye think fer a minute,” cried Jack, fiercely, “I’d take one penny o’ that reward? Not me! I didn’t earn it! Here!” and he seized the check from Allan’s fingers and crushed it into Jed’s hand. “Take it. It’s yourn.”