"Aisy, sir, take it aisy. Maybe you'd rather run like a rat into a trap. Cowards? Well, pozzible, pozzible. There's nothing like having a wife and a few childers for making a brave chap into a bit of a skunk. But we'll lave 'cowards' alone if you plaze." Quilleash made a dignified sweep of the back of his hand, while the other men said, "Better, better." "Why have you brought me here?" said Dan. "There isn't a living sowl knows where you are, and when they find you're missing at the Castle they'll say you've thought better of it and escaped." "Why have you brought me here?" Dan repeated. "The Whitehaven boat left Ramsey after we dropped anchor in the bay last night, and they'll say you've gone off to England." "Tell me why you have brought me to this place." "We are alone and can do anything we like with you, and nobody a ha'p'orth the wiser." "What do you mean to do?" Then they told him of the alternative of life or death. There was nothing against him but his own confession. If he but held his tongue there was not enough evidence to hang a cat. Let him only promise to plead "Not guilty" when the trial came on, and they were ready to go back with him and stand beside him. If not-- "What then?" Dan asked. "Then we'll be forced--" said Quilleash, and he stopped. "Well?" "I'm saying we'll be forced--" He stopped again. "Out with it, man alive," Teare broke in--"forced to shoot him like a dog." "Well, that's only spakin' the truth anyway," said Quilleash, quietly. Davy Fayle leapt up from the fire with a cry of horror. But Dan was calm and resolute. "Men, you don't know what you're asking. I can not do it." "Aisy sir, aisy, and think agen. You see we're in if you're in, and who's to know who's deepest?" "God knows it, and he will never allow you to suffer." "We've childers and wives looking to us, and who can tell how they'd fend in the world if we were gone?" "You're brave fellows, and I'm sorry for the name I gave you." "Shoo! Lave that alone. Maybe we spoke back. Let's come to the fac's." They stated their case again and with calm deliberation. He asked how it could mend their case if his life was taken. They answered him that they would go back and surrender, and stand their trial and be acquitted. Those four men were as solemn a tribunal as ever a man stood before for life or death. Not a touch of passion, hardly a touch of warmth, disturbed their rude sense of justice. "We're innocent, but we're in it, and if you stand to it we must stand to it, and what's the use of throwing your life away?" Dan looked into their haggard faces without wavering. He had gone too far to go back now. But he was deeply moved. "Men," he said, "I wish to God I could do what you ask, but I can not, and, besides, the Almighty will not let any harm come to you."