_TEMPTED._
Whiterock flung something from the boy, and, jumping out of the bunk,
still laughing loudly, lifted him on to the ground.
"Captain," he called out, "these old bunks here are full of
pine-snakes, which have crawled into them for warmth. Fortunately
they are quite harmless. Now then, men, they won't hurt you!"
When all the men had returned they declared that it was impossible to
sleep any more that night. So more coffee was made, and they all sat
and lay about near the fire, talking of their future plans. Cyril
began to count the men, but was still so sleepy that he could not
quite decide whether their number was nearer twenty than thirty.
For some time no one took any notice of the boy. But at last the
Captain did so, and jeered at Whiterock for turning nursemaid.
Then they all began to talk of Cyril, much to his discomfiture.
Presently Whiterock asked him if he would like to remain with them as
his adopted son, and in time would become one of the band.
"Ah, like Wolfgang," said the Captain, stroking his long beard. "He
was a lad of about your age. We found him. I won't say where, but
he grew up amongst us, and for cleverness and pluck there wasn't a
man of us all that could beat him. Ah, he would have been captain if
he had lived! He was killed in a scuffle with the police. He died
fighting nobly."
Cyril had his own opinion about the nobleness of fighting the public
officers of law and order. But he felt sorry for Wolfgang. The lad
probably knew no better.
"Well, little 'un," said Whiterock, "would you like to stay with us
and be my boy?"
"But my father?" said Cyril tremulously, looking appealingly at him.
"Oh, he's dead," said Whiterock hastily. "Now come, boy, don't make
a scene."
Cyril turned his back on him. He was struggling with all his might
to keep back the tears which would not be suppressed. His father,
his dear, kind father, slain by that coarse, ruffianly fellow! Oh,
it was too cruel!
"What's the matter?" demanded the Captain.
Whiterock crossed over to him, and said something rather low in his
ear.
"Oh!" cried the Captain. "But that's only the fortune of war. Come
here, my boy," he added to Cyril.
Cyril went up to him with a pale, resolute face.
"Whiterock saved your life, lad," said the Captain. "You must
remember that. There wasn't one of us who would have done so much
for you at such a time."
"He took my father's life," replied Cyril, looking up with flashing
eyes, the hot blood mounting to his very brow.
"But he saved _your_ life, lad," remonstrated the Captain.
"I know he saved my life," cried Cyril, "and I just wish he hadn't!
As he killed my father, I would rather have died than----"
"Be quiet!" thundered the Captain. "Will you stay with us or no?"
"No, a thousand times no!" answered the boy boldly.
"I won't have him," muttered Whiterock sulkily.
"But I will," cried the Captain. "Look here, my lad, I honour you.
Yes, I honour you for loving and respecting your father. You're a
plucky lad! And if you like to stay with us you shall be my adopted
son. Do you hear what I say?"
The men uttered various exclamations, tending to show that what they
considered "a piece of rare luck" had come in Cyril's way.
Then they all waited for the boy's answer.
"No, thank you, Captain," he said politely, "I cannot."
"What for, lad? Why not?" demanded the Captain wrathfully.
"Oh, because '_Noblesse oblige_!'" replied the boy.
"What do you say?"
Cyril repeated "_Noblesse oblige_" distinctly, in tones which were
heard all over the great room.
"How do you explain those words?" asked the Captain.
"Oh, don't you understand them?" said Cyril, surprised that such a
great man as the Captain should be ignorant of their meaning. "My
father"--his voice shook a little as he said the name--"told me
_Noblesse oblige_ means rank imposes obligations, and that much is
expected from one in a good position. You see, Captain, _gentlemen
can't do mean, dishonourable things_. I'm sorry to disappoint you,
but you see I come of a race of honourable gentlemen who would scorn
to rob and plunder."
The Captain laughed loudly, rudely. "What a fine gentleman we've got
here!" said he; "let's look at him." He dragged Cyril forward into
the middle of the room. "There, my fine fellow, look around you,"
cried he. "Do you know several of these men are gentlemen of birth
and breeding?"
"Then they've forgotten it," said Cyril calmly.
A murmur of anger went round the room. "Forgotten what?" cried one
man.
"_Noblesse oblige_," replied Cyril.
"Absurd," cried the Captain. "Have you no better reason than that
for refusing my offer?"
Cyril was silent.
"Speak out," cried the Captain.
Slowly but bravely Cyril said that there was yet another reason. He
could not join them because he was a follower of Christ, who made the
law of love, saying, "_By this shall all men know that ye are My
disciples, if ye have love one to another._"
A cry of rage burst from most of the men upon hearing this. But one
or two drew rough hands across their faces, as if to hide them for a
moment.