upon his seat so as to command a sight sometimes of me and the doctor, and sometimes of his unruly ruffians as they went to and fro in the sand, between the fire—which they were busy rekindling—and the house, from which they brought forth pork and bread to make the breakfast.
"So, Jim," said the doctor, sadly, "here you are. As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy. Heaven knows I can not find it in my heart to blame you; but this much I will say, be it kind or unkind, when Captain Smollett was well you dared not have gone off, and when he was ill, and couldn't help it, by George, it was downright cowardly!"
I will own that I here began to weep. "Doctor," I said, "you might spare me. I have blamed myself enough; my life's forfeit any way, and I should have been dead now if Silver hadn't stood for me; and, doctor, believe this, I can die—and I dare say I deserve it—but what I fear is torture. If they come to torture me—"
"Jim," the doctor interrupted, and his voice was quite changed, "Jim, I can't have this. Whip over, and we'll run for it."
"Doctor," said I, "I passed my word."
"I know, I know," he cried. "We can't help that, Jim, now. I'll take it on my shoulders, holus bolus, blame and shame, my boy; but stay here I can not let you. Jump! One jump and you're out, and we'll run for it like antelopes."
"No," I replied, 'you know right well you wouldn't
