"It was my damned luck not to, that is all. For when you were gone from the tavern where I stayed, the old man I robbed of the watch had me arrested; but while on my way to jail I escaped, and as good fortune would have it this time, I ran across the very thief who got me into trouble at first. Recognizing him, and being ready, when he sought to rob me I overcame him, and so made him dismount, and taking his pistols and horse, rode off. That is how it happened that I did not await Mr. Lincoln’s return and that I am on the road again." "What have you been doing?" I asked, pleased at what he said. "Not much in my line," he answered, sadly, waving his hand; "mostly begging a night’s lodging or a meal here and there, till I ran across Moth." "You will never reform, I’m afraid," I answered, sorrowing, he was so pleasant of face and voice. "Perhaps not; but I will make no more promises, anyway. And now, just as I once owed my freedom to Mr. Lincoln, so I owe it to you. It is more than life to me, too, for if a man is once condemned, that settles him for all time." "I only helped myself in helping you, and so you owe me nothing," I answered, true enough. "Yes, I do. One never asks a neighbor why he does a good act. I could not have escaped except for you, and I owe you a debt I can never pay." "No, for I couldn’t have got off without you, and so we’re quits. It’s good to be free again, though," I exclaimed, drawing in a long breath of the sweet air. "Yes," he answered, brightening up; "and on such a night, too! How beautiful everything is—the moon, the sleeping trees, the restful shadows, the soft stir of the leaves!" and he sighed as a better man might have done in his place. "I hope we’ll neither of us ever be in such a fix again," I answered, my happiness at our escape dampened by compassion for my companion and his dangerous way of life.