No one had seen or thought of him in the excitement, and when the story of Jim Langly’s arrest had been told them, they searched the grounds and buildings in great anxiety before they finally found Steve in his room.
When Mr. Polk opened the door the boy stood before him dressed in a little ragged shirt and old pair of trousers he had worn for hunting and with bared feet. The hopeless expression of the lost was in his face.
“I can’t keep my promise to you, Mr. Polk,” he said brokenly. “I can’t ever climb that mountain fer yer, but it is better fer me ter die on the way than fer you to be killed.” Correct speech had no part in such despair.
Mr. Polk drew the boy to him while Miss Grace stood without, her lips tremulous and eyes full of tears. After a silent moment Mr. Polk led the boy outside and put him in her arms.
“Do you think we are going to give you up?” Mr. Polk said, striding up and down the hall. “Not by a long shot,” he went on with energy, and a conviction for which he could not at the moment see any tangible foundation. “This is all going to be fixed up,––just leave everything to Miss Grace and me.”
The boy shook his head. “Ye don’t know pappy,” he said sadly.
“I may not,” returned Mr. Polk cheerfully, “but I know Grace Trowbridge, and I am going to trust her to keep you here. Do just as she says, son, and everything will come right.”
He left them to talk with the president of the school. They discussed what should be done with Jim Langly. Mr. Polk greatly regretted the man’s arrest, but was compelled to admit it could not have been avoided. He begged, however, that prosecution of the case be delayed until every effort could be made to make Langly see that only good was intended for his son.
“Of course I must relinquish all claim to the boy,” he said sadly, “but we must by some means win the father’s consent that Steve remain here,––that is the important thing.”