"And drag me too," added Ben, casting a sidelong glance at his friend.
"Yes, you too. I have been dragging you along in the same mire, until, to accommodate me, you've got in about as deep as I have."
"Don't mind me, Drayton. It doesn't trouble me one bit," said Ben carelessly. "My lies have all been in the cause of friendship. Come, cheer up, old fellow. We'll both reform after this, and never again tell lies."
"If I ever do tell another, I'll be a fool," said Ralph emphatically. "It doesn't pay; besides, it is mean work."
"Yes, but what could you do? Confess to that job with the books? That was enough to expel you; don't you know it was?"
"I don't care; that would be better than living a lie here day after day, and seeing those eyes of Joe Chester's on me day and night. No, sir! I'm not going to the island and leave him behind. You are mistaken in me. I've got to the end of my rope."
Ben whistled dolefully; went and drummed a funeral march on the window; then coming back, and dropping into a chair, rested his elbow on the table, and his cheek on his hand, looking up meanwhile at his companion.
"What's the next thing on the bill of fare, then?"
"I'm going to cut," answered Ralph deliberately.
"What good will that do?"