“Cannot we keep them, uncle?”
“Keep them? I don’t want a boy to kick and knock about and jump on, sir. Do you?”
“Well, no, uncle,” I said; “but—”
“But! Yes, it’s all very well to say ‘but,’ my lad. You don’t see how serious it is.”
“I’d serve you faithful, sir,” said the carpenter. “I’m not going to brag, but I’m a handy man, sir. You might get a hole in the boat, and I didn’t bring no clothes, but I brought my tools, and I’m at home over a job like that. You might want a hut knocked up, or your guns mended. I’d do anything, sir, and I don’t ask for pay. It might come to your wanting help with the blacks. If you did, I’d fight for you all I could.”
“Well, I don’t know what to do, Nat. What do you say?”
The boy darted forward wildly and threw himself upon his knees.
“Say yes, Mr Nat; say yes!” he cried imploringly. “Don’t send us off, sir, and you shan’t never repent it. You know what made us run away. Say yes, sir; oh, say yes!”
“I can’t say anything else, uncle,” I said, in a husky voice.
“Hooray!” yelled the boy, throwing his cap in the air. “Do you hear, Bill Cross? The gentleman says ‘yes’!”