“No, you ain’t all bad,” said Watson. “It’s a pity you won’t make up your mind to earn an honest living.”
“Too late for that, I reckon. What do you think they’ll do with me?”
In those days punishments were summary and severe. Watson knew it and Joe had seen something of it. Our hero began to feel compassion for the foiled burglar. He whispered in Watson’s ear. Watson hesitated, but finally yielded.
“Stranger,” said he, “the boy wants me to let you go.”
“Does he?” inquired Rafferty, in surprise.
“Yes. He is afraid it will go hard with you if we give you up.”
“Likely it will,” muttered Rafferty, watching Watson’s face eagerly, to see whether he favored Joe’s proposal.
“Suppose we let you go—will you promise not to make another attempt upon this place?”
“What do you take me for? I’m not such a mean cuss as that.”
“One thing more—you won’t kill this man that brought you here?”