“But you have a heart,” said Pierre. “How wonderful—a heart! And there’s the half a lung, and the boneset and camomile tea, and the blister, and the girl with an eye like a spot of rainbow, and the sacred law in a Remington rifle! Well, well! And to do it in the early morning—to wait in the shelter of the trees till some go to look after the horses, then enter the house, arrest those inside, and lay low for the rest.”
Halby looked over at Pierre astonished. Here was raillery and good advice all in a piece.
“It isn’t wise to go alone, for if there’s trouble and I should go down, who’s to tell the truth? Two could do it; but one—no, it isn’t wise, though it would look smart enough.”
“Who said to go alone?” asked Pierre, scrawling on the table with a burnt match.
“I have no men.”
Pierre looked up at the wall.
“Throng has a good Snider there,” he said. “Bosh! Throng can’t go.”
The old man coughed and strained.
“If it wasn’t—only-half a lung, and I could carry the boneset ‘long with us.”
Pierre slid off the table, came to the old man, and, taking him by the arms, pushed him gently into a chair. “Sit down; don’t be a fool, Throng,” he said. Then he turned to Halby: “You’re a magistrate—make me a special constable; I’ll go, monsieur le capitaine—of no company.”