"It’s certainly kind of you—mighty kind."
Rosalind felt that the sword no longer dangled over her head by a single hair.
"You’re a good, square pal to tip me off," he went on. "I guess you’re dead right about it. The jig’s up for us.
"We’ll be starting in a few minutes. It never pays to stick around after the last hand’s played."
Rosalind was tongue-tied with astonishment.
"You see," Sam went on, seemingly unaware of her consternation, "it’s foolish to take any more chances than are absolutely necessary. Now that we’ve got a fairly good stake, it would be silly to wait. We’ll run over to the American side somewhere, and once we get ashore there’s small chance of getting pinched."
"Are you utterly mad?" asked Rosalind, abruptly finding her voice.
"Mad? I should say not, ma’am. Just cautious—that’s all. I’d be mad if I stayed."
"That you are going with me. Certainly. Why not?"
Rosalind was not frightened, yet something in his tone chilled her. She examined his face with searching eyes. He seemed to be quite composed; there was no trace of wildness in his eyes, no betrayal of mental agitation in his speech. Were it not for his astounding words, she would have considered him entirely normal. She decided to laugh, but the attempt was poor. His was infinitely more successful.
"It may be a little sudden, ma’am," he admitted; "but it seems a case for quick action. I’m sorry we won’t even be able to stop at Witherbee’s for your trunks."
"Think what you are saying," she advised, controlling her voice. "It is quite impossible—this thing you propose. But, of course, you’re not serious."
The look in his eyes gave her a twinge of alarm.
"That’s the first time you’ve called me by name," he interrupted with a bow. "Thanks, partner."
"But don’t you see there is no reason whatever for me to go."
Rosalind was trying to talk to him as if he were a petulant child to be placated, or a lunatic to be argued with until help arrived.
"There’s every reason," he answered. "Pals should stick together."
"But you know—seriously—that I am not your—pal!"
The vulgar word passed her lips reluctantly.
"But you are, ma’am; the best I ever had. I guess I could name a dozen instances of it. Want me to go over them? First, there’s—"