“Well, I guess so. It isn't the sort of thing I'd be likely to make up. And I say you can tell if you want to. I make you a present of the information. If father isn't willing to take the consequences, I am; and they half belong to me. I won't have anybody sheltering us, or losing by us. We have got no quarrel with you.”
“That is brave of you. I wish it was something more than brave,” sighed Travis. “But I want it all myself. I can't spare this information to the company. You didn't do it for them, did you?”
“When I go telling on my father to save a ditch, I guess it will be after now,” said Nancy. “If that rich company, with all its men and watchmen and teams and money, can't protect itself from one poor old man”—
“Never mind the company,” said Travis. “What's mine is mine. This word you gave to me, it doesn't belong to my employers. You have saved me to myself; now I shall not go kicking myself for sleeping that night on my beat. It's not so bad—oh, not half so bad—for me!”
“Then go tell them, and get the credit for it. Don't you mean to?”
She could not see him smile. “When I tell, you will hear of it.”
“But you talked about your record.”
“I shall have to go to work and make a new record. Ah, if you would be as kind as you are brave! Was it all just for pride you told me this? Don't you care, not the least bit, about my part—that I am down and out of everything?”
“It's your own fault, then. I have told you how you can clear yourself and stay.”
“And lose my chance with you! I was thinking of coming back, some day, to tell you—what you must know already. Nancy, you do know!”