"Well," said Peter, unable to abstain from a little more of such very cheap heroism, "I do not fear death—with you!"
"Say that once more," she said; which Peter very obligingly did. "Oh, Peter, how I admire you now! How little I knew you were capable of going so calmly to your doom! You give me courage. I feel that I, too, can face death; only not that death—it is so horrid to be shot!"
"It would be unpleasant," said Peter, placidly, "but soon over."
"No," she said, "I couldn't bear it. I can see him pointing his revolver—for he always carries one, even at a picnic—first at your head, then mine! No, Peter; since we must die, I prefer at least to do so without bloodshed!"
"So do I," he agreed, "very much."
"You do?" she cried. "Then, oh, Peter! why should we wait any longer for a fate that is inevitable? Let us do it now, together!"
"Do what?" said Peter.
"Slip over the side together; it would be quite easy, no one will see us. Let us plunge arm-in-arm into the merciful sea! A little struggle—a moment's battle for breath—then all will be over!"
"Yes, I suppose it would be over then;" he said; "but we should have to swallow such a lot of salt water first!"