“Now, don’t be absurd and obstinate, sir,” he cried; “do as I advise you, and let’s get this miserable trouble out of the way. The cabin’s too small, and we all want to help one another too much, for our little commonwealth to be at sixes and sevens. Come, pitch all that shame and cowardice overboard.”
“Do you mean to say, sir, that I did wrong in pitching—I mean in hitting that hot-headed Scotch boy again when he hit me?”
“I did not bring you down here to argue out questions of that kind, sir.”
“But you might answer me, sir. I want to know whether I really was in the wrong.”
“Take it that you were,” said the doctor.
“No, sir, I can’t. I don’t feel convinced. If you had been in my place—”
“I’m not going to answer any such questions, Steve, and you have no right to put them to me. I tell you I am not going to be cross-examined by you, sir, on all kinds of pros and cons. This is a matter that I want settled at once for both of your sakes—there, for all our sakes. Now go.”
Steve shook his head again.
“I don’t feel as if I can.”
“Then you’re a more stubborn fellow than I took you to be; and I can assure you, Steve, I feel that, with a lad whom I have always tried to make my friend. Now, have I not?”