"Sure," Andy said. "Und say, old man, it's a good one—und say, it's the best ever; und, by golly, been a good frient to me, und come in handy some day for you; und you remember old Andy by dot better than anything."
Shorty opened the bag and dropped the revolver in. The German held out his arms and in a trembling voice said, "Kiss me, you rascal," and the boy jumped into his arms.
Bill, who had been listening and watching the men, was tugging at his waistcoat. "And here's an old watch with a horse-hair chain—he's had his eye on it for some moons. He'd 'a' had it before," he explained confidentially to Jim, who was trying to prevent Bill from loosening it, "only it belonged to my mother." He knelt down on the ground and opened his arms. "And now, old man, give me a long hug. Don't ever forget your side-partner." Bill felt he must be careful. The men were beginning to move away, and surreptitiously to dig their knuckles into eyes that were showing their emotion.
Elated and excited by what seemed play to him, Hal said, as he patted the foreman, "Be good, Bill," and the men laughed as Bill answered:
"Sure I will—sure—sure."
The horses began to stamp impatiently as they grew restive under the attack of the flies. Diana looked at Sir John. They must start shortly, she knew; but who would make Jim realize that the final farewell to the child must be spoken. Petrie, who through a feeling of delicacy had kept away from Jim and the boy all morning, came to Sir John and Diana with a whispered message from the driver, who was anxious to make a start.
As though divining their thoughts, Jim went to Bill, who was still holding Hal. He threw his arm around the big fellow's shoulder. "Aren't you goin' to drive to the fort, Bill?"
"No, I think you need me more than he does."
"Oh, I'll be all right."
Jim's eyes searched the child's face. For the boy's sake he must control the aching sense of desolation that beset him.