"
He gave facts and opinions with a mixture of loyalty and mistrust. His
own state puzzled him exceedingly. He couldn't make out anything, he did
not know what to believe and yet he had an impulsive desire, an inspired
desire to help the man. At times it appeared a necessity--at others
policy; between whiles a great folly, which perhaps did not matter
because he suspected himself of being helpless anyway. Then he had
moments of anger. In those moments he would feel in his pocket the
butt of a loaded pistol. He had provided himself with the weapon, when
directed by Mrs. Travers to go on board the brig.
"If he wants to interfere with me, I'll let drive at him and take my
chance of getting away," he had explained hurriedly.
He remembered how startled Mrs. Travers looked. Of course, a woman like
that--not used to hear such talk. Therefore it was no use listening to
her, except for good manners' sake. Once bit twice shy. He had no mind
to be kidnapped, not he, nor bullied either.
"I can't let him nab me, too. You will want me now, Mrs. Travers," he
had said; "and I promise you not to fire off the old thing unless he
jolly well forces me to."
He was youthfully wise in his resolution not to give way to her
entreaties, though her extraordinary agitation did stagger him for a
moment.
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