Bunny's eyes began to shine. "You're the best fellow I know," he said. "If--if it weren't for Lord Saltash, I wouldn't say a word!"
"Well," said Jake very deliberately, "I refuse to be warned off on his account. That's understood, is it?"
Bunny hesitated. The red-brown eyes were looking full and unwaveringly into his. "I'm not thinking of myself, Jake," he said, with sudden pleading.
Jake's hand closed squarely upon his. "All right, old chap, I know; and I like you for it. But I'm taking odds. It's ninety-nine to one. If I win on the hundredth chance, you'll take it like a sport?"
Bunny's hand returned his grip with all the strength at his command. He was silent for a moment or two; then, impulsively: "I say, Jake," he said, "--you--you're such a sport yourself! I think I'll back you after all."
"Right O!" said Jake. "You won't be sorry."
He dismissed the subject then with obvious intention, and Bunny seemed relieved to let it go. He turned the conversation to Sam Vickers, asking endless questions regarding the American doctor and his miracles.
"I wish he'd come and have a look at me, Jake," he said wistfully at length.
"Thought you didn't like doctors," said Jake.
"Oh, a man like that is different. I'd put up with a man like that," said Bunny, with a sigh.