Watson eyed the brown, healthy specimen of manhood before him admiringly and remarked on his improved looks. “Your cousin sends her regards and this,” said Watson, handing Jack a parcel which he opened immediately. It contained a pair of moccasins, embroidered by Miss De Vere herself, and an extremely kind letter.
Jack’s eyes filled with tears of pleasure at the acceptable present and the spirit that prompted her to make it.
“She is very kind to take such an interest in a comparative stranger,” he said with great feeling.
“She is a De Vere, you know,” Watson answered, slyly punching him. “Is Nelson about?” When answered affirmatively he continued, “Dora is a nice girl, now, aint she?”
Jack De Vere
“Certainly,” replied Jack quickly, “a fine character.”
Watson eyed him closely and then burst into a loud laugh which was so infectious that Jack joined in without knowing why. Suddenly checking himself, he said, “What are we laughing at anyway?”
“You sly dog,” said Watson, “I’ve been there myself, and you needn’t try to look innocent. She’s a jewel, my boy, and I reckon you’ve done the right thing.” Then changing his tone, he continued:
“After you left Austin, I wrote Andrew Genung stating that I had seen you, and made some inquiries about his brother and what had become of the boy Hernando. He answered at great length telling me that, as I knew, his brother Fred had died in a fight at Virginia City. The wife is probably—God knows where!” Here his voice sank to a whisper, “And their boy is a leper! Did you know this?”