Then flinging his whole weight above the prostrate body he
held him by sheer force, conquering and saving this life which had no
claims on him except that of all common humanity. An onlooker would have
thought that the dread disease had no horrors for the boy, but Con was
only human, and many a time he fought it out with himself when the
terrors of the threatened infection were upon him. Then he would say
to himself, "Con, are you going to try and be a gentleman through your
whole life, or just be a cad?" Then all thought of quitting would
vanish, and back he would go to the shack, to be rewarded by a wonderful
look of dog-like gratitude that would shine in Snooks' festered eyes,
replacing the haunting fear that always lurked there whenever the boy
remained outside any length of time--the fear that Con, too, had gone,
as had his "pardner," leaving him forever alone.
"Don't you get scared," Con would say on these occasions. "I'm with you
to the finish for good or ill, and it will be for good, I think."
"It sure is for _my_ good," Snooks had said once.
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