“Because you would be disgracing yourself by associating with a man of my character, and you would be breaking laws made for the protection of the settlers who employ convict servants.”
“You are not a man of bad character,” said Nic quietly; “and as to law—well, I suppose it would be breaking that; but then the law doesn’t know any better. It does not know you like I do.”
“There, boy, we will not argue the question. I’m black enough as it is, but I want to do you good, Nic, not harm. Come,” he continued, rising, “time is going on, and you are some distance from home. Where is your horse?”
“Miles away.”
“Then you must be moving.”
“There’s no hurry,” said Nic.
“Yes, there is. You have a dangerous ledge to go along.”
“I can get along better when I am more rested,” said the boy.
The convict smiled.
“Then let me put it in a more selfish way,” he said. “It is close on sundown, and I have a long way to go to my home. A more dangerous way than yours, and I could not attempt it after it begins to grow dusk.”