“Please go,” I begged. I could not keep my eyes off the door. I feared every moment to hear the rap of the sergeant come to arrest our friends. But the captain and Mr. Holliway reiterated their determination not to leave us in our present situation. If I had not been scared almost to death I could have laughed at the perfect brotherliness of Locke’s protestations.
“Tere is tancher, shentlemen. I hears te talk town te street,” urged the Dutchman with every appearance of earnestness and good-will.
“What did you hear?” asked Locke nonchalantly.
“Oh, tey tinks you haf not tolt vat you vas. Tey tinks you be Secesh—unt I ton’t know vat tey tinks.”
“I can’t help what they think,” said Locke. “I am going to protect my sisters.”
“How you brotect tem ven you be brisoners, hein?”
“I don’t know,” answered Locke, smiling, “but I certainly shall not leave them.”
“Vat goot you do? I vill take care of te ladies. Nopody vill hu’t tem, unt I vill see dat tey gets off all right. Tere is no tancher for tem.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said the captain simply and heartily. “But we can not accept your kind offer. We must take my sisters home ourselves.”
“I ver’ sorry,” said the Dutchman sadly.