All this while one of our party had been silent, watching the fishing- boat, but taking no part in our discussion. He was Charlie Archer, a new boy at Parkhurst, and some years our junior. But from the first I had taken a remarkable fancy to this clever, good-humoured, plucky boy, who henceforth had become my frequent companion, and with me the companion of the others who now composed our party. He now looked up and said, greatly to our surprise-- "I say, I don't want to go!" "Why not?" we all asked. "Oh, it doesn't matter," he replied, in evident confusion. "I don't want to spoil your fun, you know, but I'd rather not go myself." "Why, what on earth's the matter with you, Charlie?" I asked. "I thought you were always ready for an adventure." "I'd rather not go, please," he repeated. "You can put me ashore." "Why not?" again inquired Hall, this time testily. He never liked Charlie quite as much as Hutton and I did, and was evidently displeased to have him now putting forward objections to a proposition of his own making. "Why not?" "Because--because," began the boy hesitatingly--"because I don't want to go." Hall became angry. Like most boys not sure of the honesty of their own motives, he disliked to have it suggested that what he was urging was wrong. He therefore replied, with a taunt keener than any persuasion-- "Poor little milksop, I suppose he's afraid of getting drowned, or of doing something his mamma, or his grandmamma, or somebody wouldn't like their little pet to do. We'd better put him ashore, boys; and mind his precious little boots don't get wet while we're about it!" It was a cruel blow, and struck home at Archer's one weak point. Plucky and adventurous as he was, the one thing he could not endure was to be laughed at. And his face flushed, and his lips quivered, as he heard Hall's brutal speech, and marked the smile with which, I am ashamed to say, we received it. "I'm _not_ afraid," he exclaimed. "Then why don't you want to go?" He was silent for some time. A struggle was evidently going on in his mind. But the sneer on Hall's face determined him. "I do want to go. I've changed my mind!" "That's the style," said Hutton, patting him on the back. "I knew you were one of the right sort." Hall, too, condescended to approve of his decision, and at once began to busy himself with preparations for our immediate start. I, however, was by no means comfortable at what had taken place. It was plain to see Charlie had yielded against his better judgment, and that with whatever alacrity he might now throw himself into the scheme, his mind was not easy. Had I been less selfishly inclined towards my own pleasure, I should have sided with him in his desire not to engage in a questionable proceeding; but, alas! my wishes in this case had ruled my conscience. Still, I made one feeble effort on Archer's behalf.