"Scarlett Trent," he cried, "Scarlett Trent, listen to me! You are
young and I am old! To you this may be one adventure amongst many
- it is my last. I've craved for such a chance as this ever since
I set foot in this cursed land. It's come late enough, too late
almost for me, but I'm going through with it while there's breath
in my body. Swear to me now that you will not back out! Do you
hear, Trent? Swear!"
Trent looked curiously at his companion, vastly interested in this
sudden outburst, in the firmness of his tone and the tightening of
the weak mouth. After all, then, the old chap had some grit in him.
To Trent, who had known him for years as a broken-down hanger-on of
the settlement at Buckomari, a drunkard, gambler, a creature to all
appearance hopelessly gone under, this look and this almost
passionate appeal were like a revelation. He stretched out his
great hand and patted his companion on the back - a proceeding which
obviously caused him much discomfort.
"Bravo, old cockie!" he said. "Didn't imagine you'd got the grit.
You know I'm not the chap to be let down easy. We'll go through
with it, then, and take all chances! It's my game right along.
Every copper I've got went to pay the bearers here and to buy the
kickshaws and rum for old What's-his-name, and I'm not anxious to
start again as a pauper.
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