"And so," rejoined Kiddie with a smile, "you decided to make a virtue of necessity, eh?"
Nick had lighted his pipe, and he took several thoughtful puffs at it before he answered.
"We decided ter delay operations. D'ye savee?"
"Yes, I see," nodded Kiddie. "You decided to wait until I had done the unpacking for you—until I'd got the valuables nice and handy for the robbery in the lonesome cabin that I'm building for myself in the woods."
"That's about the size of it," acknowledged Nick. "An' now you're warned."
"Forewarned and forearmed," returned Kiddie. "I shall be prepared, you may be sure. And you can expect a hot reception. A very hot reception, indeed."
Nick strode up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder with the wet stem of his pipe.
"Look 'ee here, Lord Saint Olave," he said steadily; "you ain't read my c'ara'ter true; not yet. You got a lot to learn 'fore you knows me proper. I ain't the low-down cur as you takes me for—not by a long chalk. I ain't beyond gettin' back on the right trail, if yer only gives me time. Your comin' back here to the wilds has made a kinder diff'rence t' me—a heap of diff'rence. D'ye savee?"
"I'm glad to hear it, Nick, my boy," said Kiddie. "And I quite understand. You mean that because I'm back here to blaze a trail for you, you'll give up gambling, you'll give up hard drinking, and you'll never again molest harmless travellers or do thieving of any sort. Do you promise all this, Nick? Eh? Straight, now, do you promise it? I know you'll keep your word, once you give it. You're a desperado, but I don't think you would break your word."
Nick Undrell pulled himself together.