I bethought me now of the conversation I had unwillingly overheard—and my heart was grateful to these my friends—but the next instant I remembered the note to Cal Davidson.
“I thank you, Jimmy, my friend,” said I, “and I believe I know what you mean, but it can’t be done.”
“What can’t, an’ why can’t it?”
“Why, the—the frame-up that you have just mentioned. In short—but, Jimmy, go on and roll up the blankets.”
“But why can’t it, and what do you know about it? Tell me,” he demanded with sudden inspiration, “is yon varlet a suitor, too, for yon heartless jade?”
“I decline to answer, Jimmy. Don’t let’s get into too deep water. Go on and get your bundles ready.”
“You’re a fine pirate, ain’t you, Black Bart!” he broke out. “Do you hold yerself fit to head a band o’ bold an’ desprit men, when you let yerself be bluffed by yon varlet, an’ him a thousand miles away? You try me, just you gimme a desert island, or even a pirut ship, a week, like the chance you got, an’ beshrew me, but any heartless jade would be mine!”
“—Or else she’d walk the plank.”
“There isn’t any plank to walk here, Jimmy,” said I, pointing to our boat, which lay in the shoals far out. “I rather wish there were.”