He looked keenly and searchingly at me, and then again at Bob. My appearance was certainly not very prepossessing, unshaven as I was, and with my clothes and linen soiled and torn. He was evidently considering what could be the motive of our visit, and what had brought me into Bob’s society. The result of his physiognomical observations did not appear very favourable either to me or my companion. I hastened to explain.
“You shall hear how it was, judge. I am indebted to Bob for my life.”
“Your life! Indebted to Bob for your life!” repeated the judge, shaking his head incredulously.
I related how I had lost my way in the prairie; had been carried into the Jacinto by my horse; and how I should inevitably have been drowned but for Bob’s aid.
“Indeed!” said the judge, when I had done speaking. “So Bob saved your life! Is that true, Bob? Well, I am glad of it, Bob—very glad of it. Ah! if you could only keep away from that Johnny. I tell you, Bob, Johnny will be the ruin of you. Better keep out of his way.”
This was spoken gravely and earnestly, the speaker pausing between the sentences to take a pull at his cigar, and a sup out of his glass.
“Yes, Bob,” he repeated; “only keep away from Johnny!”
“It’s too late,” answered Bob.
“Don’t know why it should be. Never too late to leave a debauched, sinful life; never, man!”