"But suppose while I am away—" began Eustace desperately.
"We've got to chance that," said Bob bravely. "You couldn't save my life if you stayed; you could only die too, and what would be the good of that?"
"I would rather," said Eustace chokily.
"Well, I wouldn't," Bob said firmly. "We mustn't think about ourselves in it at all. You've got to go home and set the dear home-folks' minds at rest about us. They'll know no peace till they hear, one way or another. Then, of course, they'll set out to fetch me. You'll guide them. If I am here, well and good. If I am not, don't you forget I wouldn't let you stay. You did the only thing you could for me by obeying orders."
Eustace hid his face in his hands because his lips were trembling so; he felt sick, and shaky all over.
"O Bob," he said, "must I?"
"For my sake, laddie," said Bob softly.
Eustace stood up, but kept his head turned away that Bob should still not see his face.
"I do wish," said Bob lightly, "that you could give me a nice slice of beef before you go; I'm so hungry."
It was a little bit of chaff to help the boy to pull himself together. It worked quite a miracle, for Eustace's face cleared instantly.