"Look here," said O'Shea roughly, "do ye value your life?"
"Certainly."
Caius folded his arms, and made this answer with well-bred contempt.
"And ye shall have your life, but on one condition. Take out of your
bags what's needed for dealing with the sick this noight, for there's a
dying man ye must visit before ye sleep, and the condition is that ye
walk on to The Cloud by yourself on this beach without once looking
behoind ye. Moind what I say! Ye shall go free--yerself, yer money, and
yer midicines--if ye walk from here to the second house that is a
loighthouse without once turning yer head or looking behoind ye." He
pointed to the bags with a gesture of rude authority. "Take out what ye
need, and begone!"
"I shall do nothing of the sort," replied Caius, his arms still folded.
The boy had come near enough to hear what was said, but he did not
interfere.
"And why not?" asked O'Shea, a jeer in his tones.
"Because I would not trust one of you not to kill me as soon as my back
was turned."
"And if your back isn't turned, and that pretty quick, too, ye'll not
live many hours."
"I prefer to die looking death in the face; but it'll be hard for the
man who attempts to touch me."
"Oh! ye think ye'll foight for it, do ye?" asked O'Shea lightly; "but
ye're mistaken there--the death ye shall doie will admit of no foighting
on your part.
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