"You keep that hope green, and not let it get away from you like the rest of 'em, and it sure will happen," says I. I turned and looked hard at Mary. "Have you any message for Arthur?" I asked her. She bit her lips, and glanced at Belknap. "No," says she, short, "I have no message for Mr. Saxton." "Too bad," says I. "He was a good friend of yours." With that I turned and stalked off. She followed me, and caught me gently by the sleeve. "You're not angry at me, Will? I'm all alone here, you know." I had it hot on my tongue to tell her I was angry plenty, but it crossed my mind how that would play into Belknap's hand, whatever scheme he was working, for Mary wouldn't stand too much from anybody; so, with an unaccountable rush of sense to the brain, I said: "Not angry, Mary, but jarred, to see you go back on a friend." "Will, you don't understand! It is not I who have gone back--who have been unfriendly to Mr. Saxton, it is he who has put it out of my power to be his friend--I can't even tell you--you must believe me." "Did _he_ tell _you_ this?" I asked her. "No," she said. "Well, until he does, I'd as soon believe Arthur as Mr. Belknap." "Mr. Belknap! How did you know--why, what do you mean, Will?" "I mean that I don't like Belknap a little bit," said I most unwisely. "And I do like you and Saxton." "You don't know Mr. Belknap, and you are very unreasonable," she said, getting warm. "Unreasonable enough to be afire all over at the thought of any one cheating you, Mary--will you excuse that?" I held out my hand, but she gave me a hug. "I'm not going to pretend to be angry at you, for I can't," she said. "'You do not love me--no? So kiss me good-by, and go!' One minute, Will, may I speak to you as if you really were my brother?" "I should say you could." "Well, then, will you promise me that in this place you will do nothing, nor go anywhere with Arth--with any one that would make me ashamed to treat you as I do? Will you keep yourself the same sweet, true-hearted boy I have known, for your mother's sake, and for my sake?" Her eyes had filled with tears. I'd have promised to sit quietly on a ton of dynamite until it went off--and kept my word at that. "I promise, Mary," says I. "Will, boy, I love you," she said, "and I love you because there's nothing silly in that honest red head of yours to misunderstand me. I want to be your dear sister--and to think that you might, too--" She broke off, and the tears overflowed. Looking at her, a hard suspicion of Saxton jolted me. I didn't know a great deal of the crooked side, but, of course, I had a glimmer, and it struck me that if he had been cutting up bad, when he pretended to care for this girl, he needed killing. "Tell me, Mary," I asked her, "has Arthur--" "Hush, Will--I can tell you nothing. You must see with your own eyes. And here's a kiss for your promise--which will be kept! And to-morrow at three you're to be here again."