Ensign Darrin broke the weapon open at the breach. From the chamber he removed the cartridges, dropping them into his pocket. With another swift movement Dave flung the pistol so far that it dropped over the edge of a cliff.
"You will pardon me, I trust, sir, for throwing your property away in that fashion," Dave apologized, in the best French he could summon.
"Since it is the very last item of my property that was left to me, perhaps it can matter but little that I am deprived of it," said the stranger, smiling wanly. "The cliff is still left to me, however. I can easily follow the pistol."
"But you are not going to jump over the cliff," Darrin assured him energetically.
"And why are you so certain of that?" demanded the stranger.
Dave looked keenly at his companion before he replied:
"Because, sir, your face is that of a man—not of a coward. Suicide is the act of a coward. It is the resort of one who frankly admits that his troubles are greater than he has the manhood to bear. Now, you have, when one regards you closely, the look of a man and a gentleman."
"Thank you for your good opinion, sir," replied the stranger, bowing. "I will say that I was born a gentleman."
"And you still are one, and a man, as well as a gentleman," Dave continued, gently. "Therefore, you are not afraid to face life."
"What is there left to me to make life worth living?" queried the stranger.