“Let Dunk alone, he can look out for himself.”
Laughing and expostulating, the others got between Andy and his friend. It was all in good-natured fun, for most of the boys, beyond perhaps smoking a little more than was good for them, were not at all reckless. But the spirit of the night seemed to have laid hold of all.
“Come on, Dunk,” appealed Andy.
“He’s going to stay!” declared Mortimer, thrusting himself between Andy and Dunk, and sticking out his chin in aggressive fashion. “I tell you he’s going to stay! We don’t want any of your goody-goody methods here, Blair!”
Andy ignored the affront.
“Are you coming, Dunk?” he repeated softly.
Dunk raised his head and flashed a look at his roommate. Something in Dunk’s better nature must have awakened. And yet he was all good nature, so it is difficult to speak of the “better” side. The trouble was that he was too good-natured. Yet at that instant he must have had an understanding of what Andy’s plan was—to save him from himself.
“You want me to come with you?” he asked slowly.
“Yes, Dunk.”
“Then I’m coming.”