"I don't go to ride on Sunday."
"I suppose not. Give it to the missionaries to buy red flannel shirts for little niggers in the West Indies, if you like. I don't care what you do with it."
"You don't wish anybody to know you have been on the island this morning—is that the idea, Captain Shivernock?" asked Donald, not a little alarmed at the position in which his companion was placing him.
"That's the idea, Don John."
"I don't see why—"
"You are not to see why," interrupted the captain, fiercely. "That's my business, not yours. Will you do as I tell you?"
"If there is any trouble—"
"There isn't any trouble. Do you think I've killed somebody?—No. Do you think I've robbed somebody?—No. Do you think I've set somebody's house on fire?—No. Do you think I've stolen somebody's chickens?—No. Nothing of the sort. I want to know whether you can keep your tongue still. Let us see. There's the Juno."
"Somebody will see your boat, and know that you have been here—"
"That's my business, not yours. Don't bother your head with what don't concern you," growled the passenger.