"Yes."
"Hunters don't never wear good clothes." So Socky went on, presently, as if apologizing to his own spirit for the personal appearance of his uncle. "They git 'em all tore up by the bears an' panthers."
"That's how he got his pants tore," Sue suggested, thinking of his condition that day they met him on the trail.
"Had a fight with a 'kunk," Socky answered, quickly. He had overheard something of that adventure at Robin Lake.
They lay thinking a moment. Then up spoke the boy. "I wisht he had a gold watch."
With Socky the ladder by which a man rose to greatness had many rounds. The first was great physical strength, the next physical appearance; the possession of a rifle and the sacred privilege of bathing the same in bear's-oil was distinctly another; symbols of splendor, such as watches, finger-rings, and the like, had their places in the ladder, and qualities of imagination were not wholly disregarded.
Sue tried to think of something good to say—something, possibly, which would explain her love. It was her first trial at analysis.
"He wouldn't hurt nobody," she suggested.
"He can carry a tree on his back"—so it seemed to Socky.
"He wouldn't let nothin' touch us," said Sue, still working the vein of kindness which she had discovered.