“Can we see him?” Scott asked eagerly.
“If you don’t make him talk too much,” Hopwood consented reluctantly. He felt that it would be better not, but he could not refuse this man who had successfully accomplished what he had been trying in vain for years to do. He stepped aside to let them enter.
They walked into the little cabin stepping softly. Vic was hovering protectingly around the bed. The old man was very weak, but his pride kept him from looking ill even now. A pleased light came into his eyes when he saw Scott. He started slightly at the unexpected sight of Sewall. Scott noticed it.
“Sewall could not wait for Foster and the marshal to get out of sight to come up to thank you for saving his child,” he explained.
Sewall knelt appealingly beside the bed.
Jarred smiled and feebly stretched out his hand. “I can easily be friends with Sewall,” he whispered.
“I have always been your friend,” Sewall replied earnestly, “and I am coming to see you often if I may.”
“With Foster in the penitentiary and you for my friend I can die in peace, but”—Jarred added with a faint smile—“I am not going to do it yet.”
At a sign from Vic they left him as softly as they had come. Hopwood was waiting for them outside the door.
“He is lots better,” Hopwood exclaimed, “but Vic wants to keep him quiet.”