“Don't say that, Jack.”
“Why not? Better one than four.”
“Then I'll stop with you,” said Don, with dogged determination. “The blacks may have my chance and welcome. Nothing on earth will induce me to go.”
His chum was silent for a long time after that—so long, indeed, that Don thought the matter settled for good and all. But in this he was mistaken.
“Say, old fellow,” said Jack at last, “tell you what I'll do; I'll toss you as to which of us is togo. What do you say?”
“No, no,” cried Don.
“But why not? Where's the use of being such a softie over the matter? There are no end of reasons why I should stay, I tell you. For one thing, I've got no mother to consider.”
“That's true enough,” assented Don, gulping as he thought of his own mother.
“And no sisters or brothers.”
“Don't,” said Don huskily; “you forget me, Jack.”