“Oh, nobody doubts that, my man; but—”
“Why, look here, Sir Godfrey, I’ll keep yours and Master Scar’s swords with such an edge on ’em as shall frighten your enemies into fits. You’ll let me go, won’t you, dear master? I can’t stay behind.” Sir Godfrey shook his head. “Master Scarlett, sir, put in a word for me. Don’t go and leave me behind. I’ll be that faithful and true as never was.”
“Nobody doubts that, my man.”
“Then let me go, Sir Godfrey. Why, see how useful I can be. I can wash for you, and cook for you—anything, and cut a few armfuls of heath of a night to make your beds. And, look here, gen’lemen, soldiers on the march never gets a bit o’ vegetable; but if there’s any within a dozen miles of where you are, you shall always have it. So there!”
“You do not know the hardships of a soldier’s life, my good fellow,” said Sir Godfrey, as he patted the neck of the noble-looking, dark-dappled grey in one of the stalls. Nat laughed.
“Well, master,” he said, “if you gen’lemen as never gets yourselves wet can bear ’em, I should think I can. Let me go, sir, please.” Sir Godfrey hesitated.
“Well, my lad,” he said, “I must warn you of the risks of what you ask. We both go with our lives and liberties in our hands.”
“All right, sir; and I’ll take my life and liberty in my hand, though I don’t zackly know what you mean.”
“I mean that any day you may be cut down or shot.”
“Oh, that, Sir Godfrey! Well, so’s our flowers and fruits every day. That’s their chance, I suppose, and I’ll take mine same as you take yours. Maybe I might help to keep off a bit o’ danger from both on you, and I don’t suppose Master Scarlett would let any man give me a chop, if he could stop it.”