My mind was made up at this, and I spoke out.
“No,” I said in a husky whisper. “I didn’t know we had come to see this. I shall go.”
“What?” said Barkins, with a forced laugh. “Look here, Blacksmith, he’s showing the white feather.”
“Ho! ho!” laughed Smith. “Come, Gnat, I thought you had a little more spirit in you. Serve the beggars right.”
“Yes, I know that,” I said firmly enough now, as I looked at their faces, which, in spite of the masks they had assumed, looked ghastly; “and I daresay I haven’t pluck enough to sit it out. But I don’t care for your grins; I’m not ashamed to say that I shall go.”
“Oh, well, if you feel that it would upset you,” said Barkins, in a tone of voice full of protest, “I suppose that we had better see you off, and go somewhere else.”
“Poof!” ejaculated Smith in a low tone. “Look at him, Gnat; he’s in just as much of a stew as you are. Well, it’s too bad of you both, but if you must go, why, I suppose we must.”
“You beggar!” snarled Barkins angrily. “Why, you’re worse than I am. Look at him, Gnat! There, I will own it. I felt sick as soon as I knew what was going to happen, but I won’t be such a bumptious, bragging sneak as he is. Look at his face. It’s green and yellow. He wants to go worse than we do.”
Smith did not seem to be listening, for his starting eyes were fixed upon the far right-hand gate, over which there was a kind of pagoda, and he rose from his seat.
“Come on at once,” he whispered, “they’re going to begin.”