The woman caught Peter by the arm and drew herself up, laughing weakly at her weakness. She tottered, but Peter led her to the bunk with all the courtesy of a Raleigh escorting an Elizabeth, and she dropped on the edge of the bunk and sat there warming her hands and staring at the stove. She seemed still near exhaustion.
“If you'll excuse me, now, ma'am,” said Peter, when he had made sure she was not going to faint again, “I'll just step across to my neighbor's and get something for the boy to eat. I won't probably be gone more than a minute, and whilst I'm gone I'll arrange for a place for me to sleep to-night. You hadn't ought to make that boy walk no further to-night. It's a real bad night outside.”
“That's all right. I don't want to chase you out,” said the woman.
“Not at all,” said Peter politely. “I frequently sleep elsewheres. It'll be no trouble at all to make arrangements.”
He put more wood in the stove, opened the dampers, and lighted his lantern. Then he pinned his coat close about his neck with a blanket pin, and, as he passed the clock shelf, slipped the alarm swiftly from its place and hid it beneath his coat.
“I'll be right back, as soon as I can,” he said, and, drawing his worn felt hat down over his eyes, he stepped out hastily and slammed the door behind him.
“Why did the man take the clock?” asked the boy as the door closed.
“I guess he thought I'd steal it,” said the woman languidly.
“Would you steal it?” asked the boy.
“I guess so,” the woman answered, and closed her eyes,