The other shook his head ominously.
“Well, the chances are about ten to one on your getting back to your ship! They won’t do a thing to you!”
“I’m not so sure about that. The roughest of characters must be taught to respect our uniform, and I’m going to see that they do it.”
Ned’s chin came forward and his lips compressed in what his shipmates called “Strong’s fighting look.”
“If you’re determined to go in, then, let me give you a bit of advice. I hope you won’t be too proud to accept it.”
“Of course not,” said Ned with a smile. “This sort of work is new to me, but I mean to do the best I can at it, and I can’t carry it out if I allow myself to be scared out of these low resorts.”
“That’s the talk for a man-o’-war’s-man,” said the other approvingly. “Well, my advice is just this: load up before you go in there,—that’s all.”
“Thank you, very much,” rejoined Ned. “My men are all armed and their revolvers are loaded.”
“Well, so long, good luck.”
“So long, shipmate. Forward march!” And once more the little detachment swung off down the street.