“I have thought, Buck. It is my duty, and I appeal to you and Dan to come with me. Those faithful blacks will help, if they see you are with us, and go I must.”
“Nay, sir. That’s very well for you to talk, and I suppose folks would say it is very grand to go and throw away your life trying to save your father. If they gets to know of it at home they will say you are a hero, and write about you being a fine example. All very fine for you, because you are a gentleman; but I’m only an or’nary sort of fellow, and I don’t want people to write about me.”
“That will do,” cried Mark angrily. “Go with them, Dean, old fellow.” Dean shook his head.
“I don’t want to be a hero,” continued Mark. “I want to save my father, and if I can’t save him I’m going to die too. There, good-bye. I have talked about people being cowards, but it is only because I am half wild with misery. You have all done your best, and I know what I want you all to do is impossible. Shake hands and say good-bye.” Mark shook hands with the men in turn. “Now you,” he said, and he held out his hand to the blacks, who advanced smiling as if they did not understand, but took it that it was something all right, and then shrank back.
Mark hesitated for a moment, and there was something piteous in his look as he turned to the big driver again.
“I don’t like to go like this,” he said, “but go I will. I have always looked on you as a brave man, Denham, so I will make this last appeal to you. Will you come with me and help me to save my father and the doctor?”
“No, sir, I won’t,” said the man gruffly. “Nor your own friends and companions?”
“No, sir.”
Mark sighed.
“Then I appeal to you, Dan. You will not let us two go alone?”