“Yes, Clark,” cried John. “Now’s your chance.”
Clark hesitated for a moment, and then came toward me. I stood with my arms folded, and looked at him fixedly. I was not afraid. For I thought in that hour of who these men were, and what they were. My life was in their hands, but I held life cheap. I rose above the fear of the moment, and felt myself their superior.
Clark came up to me and stopped. I did not move.
“Curse her!” said he. “I’d as soon dance with a ghost. She looks like one, any how.”
He laughed boisterously.
“He’s afraid. He’s getting superstitious!” he cried. “What do you think of that, Johnnie?”
“Well,” drawled John, “it’s the first time I ever heard of Clark being afraid of any thing.”
These words seemed to sting Clark to the quick.
“Will you dance?” said he, in a hoarse voice.
I made no answer.