“If men cared more for their mothers and their wives and their sweethearts—listen, Tom—if men cared more for their mothers and their wives and their sweethearts than they did for their duty as citizens—Tom—there wouldn’t have been any of our boys over there.”
“You—you don’t like him—I know.”
“Listen, Tom—please listen. I like you, isn’t that enough? I like you so much I’m not going to be disappointed in you. Yes, I mean it. I wouldn’t have told you except for this. And if you don’t be strong and manly—a good scout—”
“Scout?” sneered Tom, his voice rising in defiance. “You want me to go and squeal on the one that saved my life! Scout! How do I know he did it anyway? I can’t swear absolutely that he’s the man; I don’t know he’s Anson Dyker. Anyway maybe he’s innocent. No siree, you don’t get me to—”
“Now you’re being dishonest with yourself,” she said calmly. “If he’s innocent, he has nothing to fear.”
“Then I’ll talk to him and get him to go to Kingston and—”
“No, you won’t do that, Tom, because that would give him the chance to escape. If a fellow is strong enough to sacrifice his life he is certainly strong enough to sacrifice a friendship. He is not going to let sentiment stand in the way of his duty.”
“A lot of sentiment you have,” he sneered.
“I have more than you think,” she said, looking at him earnestly.
“I suppose you’d like me to take the reward too,” he sneered. “I won’t do that—I tell you right now I won’t do that—I’m not a—a—a—skunk.”