“Most emphatically, I do. I want you to go in with me.”
“Well, sir,” he continues, “I can’t do it.”
“But,” said I, “look here, Abraham, I have paid you my money. You are my guide. You have promised to show me through the city.”
“Yes, sir, but I didn’t promise to go into the tomb with you,” was his response.
Turning to Johnson, I request him to accompany me. I show him a book which says that it is questionable whether leprosy is at all contagious; that it is possible for one to shake hands with a leper without any ill effects. Besides, I tell him that we will arm ourselves so as to keep them away from us—that we will fill our pockets with coins, and, if the lepers come close to us, will strew them like seed corn on the ground, and while they stop to gather them up, we will get a good look at them. I explain further to my companion that even if the lepers were disposed to come up to us, we could fight them off with our heavy canes.
After placing these arguments before him, I make a final appeal; “Johnson, don’t desert me. Nerve yourself and go in with me.” Seeing that he is wavering and hesitating, I say: “Johnson, screw your courage to the sticking point, and let’s go in.”
He responds: “It won’t stick.”
“Try it again!”
He repeats, “It won’t stick!”