“Doctor, I’m no coward; no, not I⁠—not so much!” and he snapped his fingers. “If I was I wouldn’t say it. But I’ll own up fairly, I’ve the shakes upon me for the gallows. You’re a good man and a true; I never seen a better man! And you’ll not forget what I done good, not any more than you’ll forget the bad, I know. And I step aside⁠—see here⁠—and leave you and Jim alone. And you’ll put that down for me, too, for it’s a long stretch, is that!”

So saying, he stepped back a little way till he was out of earshot, and there sat down upon a tree-stump and began to whistle, spinning round now and again upon his seat so as to command a sight, sometimes of me and the doctor, and sometimes of his unruly ruffians as they went to and fro in the sand, between the fire⁠—which they were busy rekindling⁠—and the house, from which they brought forth pork and bread to make the breakfast.