"I don't know how I'll come back," he went on after a moment. "Maybe in a hurry." His brows suddenly depressed. "I can't say. But it'll be for the boy and An-ina, and, anyway, it'll likely be the last time you'll see me on this earth. I don't need to tell you more on this thing. Maybe a time'll come when you'll feel glad you didn't know any more."
"I think—I understand."
Ross breathed heavily through his pipe. He was thinking of the man, Garstaing. He was thinking of himself in Steve's place. And he felt it was more than likely that in that case he, too, might desire to return to his home in a hurry, and, perhaps, leave it again for the—last time.
"Sure. I guessed you'd understand," Steve said. "That's why I'm talking."
Again followed a brief, thoughtful pause.
"That boy," he went on. "It's him I want to tell you about. He's shown me how to get a grip on myself. He's a sort of anchor that's held me safe till the storm's blown itself out. He's been a sort of act of Providence and the life that's left to me is for him. You get that?"
"I've had it all the time. Maybe you don't remember I tried to take him from you when you crawled out of that darn canoe."
A shadowy smile hovered in Steve's eyes.
"I remember it—good," he said. "Well, if things should happen so I don't get back I'll fix it so the boy gets all the stuff my father's handed me, and I'll ask you to raise him as if he was your own. You haven't a son, Doc. He won't be a worry. An-ina's his nurse, and he couldn't have a better. If I come back I'm hoping your Millie won't be too grieved at parting from him. Can you fix that, too? You see," he added, "I'm asking you a whole heap."
"You can't ask too much, boy."