The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. “You meet me 'ere in this spot at eleven o'clock to-night,” he said, solemnly; “and I'll take you to her 'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house, faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?”
“I hear,” corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.
“She clings to me,” continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of face, “in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries me.”
“An' I get a five years' honeymoon,” said the soldier.
The boatswain shook his head and patted the other's shoulder. “In the excitement of the moment you spring up and escape,” he said, with a kindly smile. “I've thought it all out. You can run much faster than I can; any-ways, you will. The nearest 'ouse is arf a mile off, as I said, and her servant is staying till to-morrow at 'er mother's, ten miles away.”
Mr. Travers rose to his feet and stretched himself. “Time I was toddling,” he said, with a yawn. “Thanks for amusing me, mate.”
“You won't do it?” said the boatswain, eyeing him with much concern.
“I'm hanged if I do,” said the soldier, emphatically. “Accidents will happen, and then where should I be?”
“If they did,” said the boatswain, “I'd own up and clear you.”
“You might,” said Mr. Travers, “and then again you mightn't. So long, mate.”