“Right. Phew! I don’t think it’s quite so hot as it was. Now, Mark, what more have you to say?”
The boy addressed was strung up now, and he spoke out firmly and quickly.
“He said, father, that he had heard we were going up the country and to the mountains to where it would be life to him; that he was a sailor, a handy man; that he should get better quickly, and would work and put his hand to anything, if we—if we—you, I mean, father—would take him with you—us, I mean—and—those are not quite the words he said, but that’s what he meant, and I—I—”
The boy glanced in his father’s lowering face and stopped short.
“And you—” began Sir James, and Mark’s heart sank, for he felt that his appeal was vain.
In fact, his words sank almost to a whisper as he went on, “I said I’d ask you, father, if you would take him.”
“Bah!” burst out Sir James angrily. “Unreasonable! Absurd! Impossible! Do you mean to tell me that you wish me to saddle myself upon this disastrous journey with a sick man, perhaps a dying man? Why, boy, have you lost your senses? Do you mean to tell me that you would like to take him with us when we are already provided—even supposing that he was going to get better—provided, I say, with two excellent servants, strong, healthy, and ready to help us through our troubles? Answer me, sir. Don’t sit staring at me in that idiotic way. Now then, tell me—you first, Dean; you were in this hobble with your cousin. Would you like to take him?”
“Yes, uncle,” said Dean quietly.
“Pooh! That’s your mother speaking, boy. Now you, Mark, if you are not afraid to speak, as you said just now. Would you really like to take him?”
“Yes, father; and I am sure if you saw the poor fellow you would feel the same.”