“Don’t do it, Teddy; there is no need of it.”
“There is every need in the world for the young gentleman to have his gun, and there is every need of my getting it for him, being as he’s afraid to get it himself.”
“But it is too dangerous—it is too dangerous. I wouldn’t do it.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Teddy.”
“Why, by what token have ye any reason to object, bein’ that ye think there is but one of the dogs on the boat and he sound asleep.”
“He might wake up and shoot at you. You might stub your toe.”
The Irishman was getting impatient. He waved them off, and stooping down rolled up his pantaloons and put his cap on one side, so as to give himself a saucy dare-devil air. Then, without any weapon at all in his hand, and whistling “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning,” he walked boldly out on the beach and picked up the rifle of Smith.
It would be difficult to portray the emotion of the two whites as they watched the reckless Irishman. They scarcely breathed as he walked away from them, and with painfully throbbing hearts they kept their eyes fixed upon his every movement. While in the act of stooping to pick up the piece, the hunter thought his ear caught a noise upon the flat-boat, and he turned his head away, not wishing to see the venturesome man shot down. But while his eyes were still closed, Teddy reappeared beside him, and with an exulting look handed his rifle to young Smith.
“What do yees think now?” he asked.
“I still believe there are savages concealed in that flat-boat; and they only refrained from shooting you, in the belief that an opportunity of taking you a prisoner would soon be given them.