"Well, I 'spected he'd be awfull' fierce an' want to hold me for ransom, but he didn't; he's quite quiet, for an outlaw, with grey hair and big eyes, an' eats an awful lot."
"So you saved him your breakfast and dinner, did you?"
"Oh yes; an' my tea, too. Auntie Lisbeth got awfull' angry 'cause she said I ate too fast; an' Dorothy was frightened an' wouldn't sit by me 'cause she was 'fraid I'd burst--so frightfully silly of her!"
"By the way, you didn't tell me what you have there," I said, pointing to a huge, misshapen, newspaper parcel that he carried beneath one arm.
"Oh, it's a shirt, an' a coat, an' a pair of trousers of Peter's."
"'Course not; I took them. You see, my outlaw got tired of being an outlaw, so he asked me to get him some 'togs,' meaning clothes, you know, so I went an' looked in the stable an' found these."
"You don't mean to say that you stole them, Imp?"
"'Course not!" he answered reproachfully. "I left Peter sixpence an' a note to say I would pay him for them when I got my pocket-money."
We were close to the old boat-house now, and upon the Imp's earnest solicitations I handed over my bundles and hid behind a tree, because, as he pointed out, "His outlaw might not like me to see him just at first."
Having opened each package with great care and laid out their contents upon a log near by, the Imp approached the ruined building with signs of the most elaborate caution, and gave three loud, double knocks. Now casting my eyes about, I espied a short, heavy stick, and, picking it up, poised it in my hand ready in the event of possible contingencies.
The situation was decidedly unpleasant, I confess, for I expected nothing less than to be engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand struggle within the next few minutes; therefore I waited in some suspense, straining my eyes towards the shadows with my fingers clasped tight upon my bludgeon.
Then all at once I saw a shape, ghostly and undefined, flit swiftly from the gloom of the boat-house, and next moment a convict was standing beside the Imp, gaunt and tall and wild-looking in the moonlight.
His hideous clothes, stained with mud and the green slime of his hiding-places, hung upon him in tatters, and his eyes, deep-sunken in his pallid face, gleamed with an unnatural brightness as he glanced swiftly about him--a miserable, hunted creature, worn by fatigue and pinched with want and suffering.