“O, yes,” said Captain Corbet, “they’ll do—well enough—considerin; just as well as if they was new.”
“I s’pose you’re going right back from this?”
“Right back?” repeated Captain Corbet.
“Yes; you don’t intend to go dawdling about any longer—do you?”
“O, no.”
“And you’re going right straight back?”
“O, yes.”
“And when I say right straight back,” continued Ferguson, “I mean, of course, right straight back to the boys. It’s only the boys I consider. I feel anxious about them. I consider myself in some sort, just now, as responsible for their rescue, or, at any rate, for their safety; and, old man, let me warn you solemnly to be careful what you’re about. Don’t you go flitting about any longer in this style. Go you right straight back to where those boys are; if you don’t, there’ll be trouble.”
The tone of Ferguson was earnest and anxious. Captain Corbet looked distressed.
“O, railly, now,” he said: “see here now; railly I do assure you, sir, the boys are all right, and all happy—plenty to eat, good quarters, and old Solomon to cook for them and make their beds. Why, you don’t suppose I’m made of iron, or that I’d have the heart to leave them in any place except where they would be safe?”