“Uncle Nick,” I inquired, “will the Shepherd find you?”
“Me?” cries he.
“Ay,” I persisted; “will he not seek till he finds you, too?”
“Hist!” he whispered. “I’m damned, Dannie, for good an’ all.”
“You?”
“Good Lord, yes!” said he, under his breath. “Hist! Certain sure, I is––damned t’ hell for what I’m doin’.”
At this distant day I know that what he did was all for me, but not on that moonlit night of my childhood.
“What’s that?” said I.
“I’m damned for it, anyhow,” he answered. “Say no more, Dannie.”