"He said he paid her the full amount—" I interrupted.
"Very true. He did; but he paid it out of his own pocket. Sold his farm; put up all his securities, and borrowed seven hundred dollars to make the sum complete. That is the reason he is going to run an engine again. He does not know that I am aware of this, so don't mention it to him."
"Gun is a man," said I; "a great, big-hearted, true man."
"He is a nobleman!" said the nun, arising and going back into the state-room.
Half an hour later, Gunderson came back, took a seat beside me and commenced to talk.
"Say, John, that's the hardest-riding old pelter I ever see, about three inches of slack between engine and tank, pounding like a stamp-mill and—" looking over his shoulder and then at me, "John, I could a swore there was some one standing right there, I felt 'em.
"It seems to me they ort to keep up their engines here in pretty good shape. They've got bad water, and so much boiler work that they have to have new flues before the machinery gets worn much. But, Lord, they don't seem—" he looked over his shoulder again, quickly, then settled in his seat to resume, when a pair of hands covered Gun's eyes—the nun's hands.
"Guess who it is, Gun," said I; and noticed that he was very pale.
"It's Mabel," said he, putting up his hands and taking both of hers; "no one but her ever made me feel like that."