"Maybe. Yet I'll have none of it. 'Tis a craven thing t' deal with."
"'Tis mere caution."
"Well, well! I'll have no barter with caution in a case like this. I crave service. Is you comin' along?"
Sandy Rowl laughed his disbelief.
"Service!" said he. "You heed the clamor o' your curiosity. That's all that stirs you."
"No," Tommy Lark replied. "My curiosity asks me no questions now. Comin' up the hill, with this here telegram in my pocket, I made up my mind. 'Tis not I that the maid loves. It couldn't be. I'm not worthy. Still an' all, I'll carry her message t' Scalawag Harbor. An' if I'm overcome I'll not care very much—save that 'twill sadden me t' know at the last that I've failed in her service. I've no need o' you, Sandy. You've no call to come. You may do what you likes an' be no less a man. As you will, then. Is you comin'?"
Sandy reflected.
"Tommy," said he then, reluctantly, "will you listen t' what I should tell you?"
"I'll listen."
"An' will you believe me an' heed me?"