Part 39 (1/2)
The hatch to the hold was not far off and the men were put down without great trouble. Then the hatch was closed and fastened.
”Now, Dan, you are the only enemy we have who is at liberty,” said d.i.c.k, turning to the big youth. ”I want to know exactly what you propose to do.”
”What I do will depend a good deal on what you do,” was the somewhat low answer. ”I know I am in your power. But I'd like you to remember one thing--about how I warned you not to drink the drugged water and how I brought you some good water.”
”I am not going to forget that.”
”That's a point to your credit, Dan,” said Sam.
”If it hadn't been for that I--er--I don't know where you'd be now.
As I said before, I've been pretty bad--but not quite as bad as that.”
”Do you think we ought to let you go for what you did for us?” asked Tom, who never wanted to beat about the bush.
”I don't know as you ought to do that--but I'd like you to do it.
I'd like to have the chance to go away--far away--and strike out fresh. My father wants me to do it--he's written me three letters about it. He wants me to go to the Hawaiian Islands, or the Philippines, or to Australia. He says--but I don't suppose you are interested in what he writes.”
”I am,” answered d.i.c.k, promptly.
”He spoke of what you did for him and he says I--well, I ought to be ashamed to keep up the old enmity after what happened--after you saved his life. I--er--I guess he's right--and I am sick of it all.”
”Well, I hope you stay sick of it--I mean sick of doing wrong,” said Sam.
”Maybe I will--I don't know and I am not going to promise. But I am sick enough of being here, among such rough men as Sack Todd and Gasper Pold and that crowd of counterfeiters that was captured. I haven't had any real comfort for months.”
”I don't believe a criminal ever feels real comfortable,” said Tom.
”How can he, when he knows the officers of the law are constantly after him?”
”There is something in that. When I go to bed I generally dream of being caught and dragged to prison. And those men always wanted me to drink, and I don't care much for liquor.”
”Then cut it out--cut it out by all means,” said d.i.c.k. ”You can't do better.”
”And there is another thing,” went on Dan Baxter. ”I don't feel well--everything I eat lately goes against me, and sometimes I'm in a regular fever. I ought to rest somewhere, I suppose, and have a good doctor attend me. But I can't do anything to make me feel better chasing around like this.”
After that Dan Baxter told a good deal more about himself--how he had been knocking around in all sorts of questionable places and how the dissipation had grown very distasteful to him. It had certainly ruined his health, and his eyes had a hollow, feverish look in them that made his appearance rather pitiable.
”You are certainly run down,” said d.i.c.k, ”and unless you take extra good care of yourself you'll be flat on your back with some serious illness. But the question still is, Dan, What are we to do with you?”
”I know what I'd like you to do.”
”What?”
”Let me land somewhere where I am not known, so that the officers of the law can't get hold of me. Do that, and I'll promise to go far away and never trouble you again.”
”I don't think that would be right,” said Tom. ”We might be willing, but we can't a.s.sist a criminal to escape--that's a crime in itself.”
”Then you won't let me go?”