"Josh, what do you keep me here for?" he inquired abruptly.
"Orders."
"Suppose I should escape and should send you five pounds. Would n't that fix it all right?"
"No, sir, 'twould n't."
"I might make it ten."
"Ye might make it a thousand, but 't would n't do ye a mite o' good."
"Why not?"
"I'm not that kind, that's all."
"But your 'Thirteen' is doing that all the time. They have n't any scruples."
"Ye don't know Claud, that's all. Besides, it would n't make any difference if ye did. I don't care a wisp o' barley straw which side wins, but I stick by my friends every time. Here ye stay till ye 're wanted."
"They might hang me," suggested Robert.
"Like 'nough. Such things have been done."
"You would n't do it or want it done either."
"I don't do it, that's true 'nough; but it's none o' my affairs what others do."
"Where shall I lie down?"
"There, in that corner," replied the man,
