Steve Allen leant down over him and, throwing his arm around him, kissed him as if he had been a child.
“That’s all right,” he said, tenderly, and whispered something which made the boy exclaim:
“Oh, Steve! Steve!” The next moment he said, solemnly, “I promise you that I will never touch another drop of liquor again as long as I live.”
“Never mind about that now,” said Steve.
“But I want to promise. I want to make you that promise. It would help me, Steve. I have never broken my word.”
“Wait until you are free,” said Steve, indulgently. He turned to the keeper, who still stood cowering in the corner.
“Come—walk before me.” As they left the cell he said to him: “In a half-hour two hundred men will be here. These doors will go like paper. If they find that boy chained and you are here, your life will not be worth a button. Nothing but God Almighty could save you.” He left him at the front door and went out. A number of men were already assembling about the jail. It transpired afterward that old Waverley had seen Steve enter the jail, and, fearing that he might not get out again, had told Andy Stamper, who had just arrived. As Steve came out of the door Andy stepped up to him.
“We were going in after you,” he said.
Steve took him aside and had a talk with him, telling him the state of the case and putting him in charge until his return.
“If Perdue wants to come out, let him do so,” he said, as he left him. As he walked across the green he fell in with Waverley, who gave an exclamation of joy.