“Damer or Skeffy—I don't care a rush which—only tell me where are we going, and what are we going for?”
Skeff proceeded in leisurely fashion, but with a degree of cold reserve that he hoped might check all freedom, to explain that he was in search of a young countryman, whom he desired to recall from his service with Garibaldi, and restore to his friends in England.
“And you expect me to cross over to Garibaldi's lines?” asked M'Caskey, with a grin.
“I certainly reckon on your accompanying me wherever I deem it essential to proceed in furtherance of my object. Your General said as much when he offered me your services.”
“No man disposes of M'Caskey but the Sovereign he serves.”
“Then I can't see what you have come for!” cried Skeff, angrily.
“Take care, take care,” said the other, slowly.
“Take care of what?”
“Take care of Skeffington Darner, who is running his head into a very considerable scrape. I have the most tenacious of memories; and there's not a word—not a syllable—falls from you, I 'll not make you accountable for hereafter.”
“If you imagine, sir, that a tone of braggadocio—”