“You are mistaken, and before I can agree to stand by you I must insist that you write a letter to your uncle, Captain Jim, and let him know that the thousand dollars he has offered for the recovery of your body is safe. You can ask that until he hears from you again he and Aunt Ruth shall let no one one suspect you are alive. You know he believes in you, and you have only to say that you have important reasons for the request, and they will be sure to respect it.”
“I wish I could feel as certain about that as you do,” said Bob, who was made uncomfortable by the words of his friend.
“I am certain, and I can’t feel much sympathy for you as long as you show yourself indifferent to the feelings of your best friends.”
“That’s queer talk for you, Jim; you didn’t think much about the feelings of your folks when you and Tom run away from home.”
“I trust I am a different person from what I was then,” said Jim, his face flushing.
Bob looked at him curiously, but did not speak the thought which came into his mind at that moment.
“Well,” said he, with a sigh, “if you insist so strongly, why, I’ll do it.”
“When?”
“In the course of a day or two.”
“I want you to do it now, while I am in this room.”