"Micawber had the great virtue of patience," answered Smoothbore with a smile.
"I would arrest the leaders, sir, on a trumped-up charge, and get the evidence out of them that way."
"That would be a mistake, my dear Herbert."
"Perhaps so, sir; but here they can shoot us down like rats. If we have to die, we had better die like men."
"If something does not turn up—as, you remind me, Micawber might have said—you will have sufficient opportunity to die."
"I should wish to sell my life pretty dearly sir!"
"Perhaps you won't have to sell it at all—if the something happens that I expect."
"What do you expect, sir, may I ask?"
"Just something," and Smoothbore smiled again. After a pause he continued, "By all the laws of military and political science the British Empire should have been wrecked ages ago. But something always has happened. To arrest the leaders of this conspiracy would, I am sure, be an error. It would precipitate matters, and undoubtedly cause bloodshed. You must remember it is not with redskins we are dealing. Many of these fellows who are arraying themselves against us are excellent shots, accustomed to rough life, and in every way calculated to make good fighters in such a country as this. If they really take up arms against us, there is nothing to do but fight—fight to the death, sell our lives as dearly as possible, as you say. If they have no intention of taking up arms—and it is not yet certain that they will—we can suffer no harm by inaction."
"We might buy the leaders."