Archy made no reply.

"'Sleep?"

Still no answer.

"You aren't asleep. Come, look up. I've brought you four plum puffs, and a cream-cheese mother made."

"Hang your plum duffs and cream-cheeses!" cried Archy, starting up in a rage.

"Didn't say plum duff; said plum puffs."

"Take 'em away then. Bread and water's the proper thing for prisoners."

"Oh, I say, you wouldn't get fat on that."

"Will you let me out?"

"No."

"Then I warn you fairly. One of these days, or nights, or whatever they are, I'll lie wait for you, and break your head with a stone, and then get away."

Ram laughed.

"What?" cried the prisoner fiercely.

"I was only larfin'."

"What at?"

"You. Think I don't know better than that? You wouldn't be such a coward."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"Not you," said Ram, sitting down quietly, and making the lid of his basket squeak. "You know I can't help it."

"Yes, you can. You could let me out."

"Father would kill me if I did. Why, if I let you out, you'd come with a lot o' men, and there'd be a big fight, and some of our chaps wounded and some killed, and if we didn't whop you, our place would be all smashed up, and father and all of 'em in prison."

"And serve 'em right!"

"Ah, but we don't think so. That's what you'd do, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"Well, then, I can't let you go. 'Sides, if I said I would, there's always Jemmy Dadd, or big Tom Dunley, or father waiting outside, and they'd be sure to nab you."

"But you might come by night and get me out."

"No," said the boy st.u.r.dily, "I couldn't."

"Then you're a beast. Get out of my sight before I half kill you!"

"Have a puff."

"Take them away, you thieving scoundrel!" cried Archy, who was half mad with disappointment. "You come here professing to be civil, and yet you won't help me."

"Can't."

"You can, sir."

"And you wouldn't like me if I did."

"Yes, I should, and I never could be grateful enough."

"No, you wouldn't. You'd know I was a sneak and a traitor, as you call it, to father and all our chaps, and you'd never like me."

"Like you! I tell you I should consider you my best friend."

"Not you. I know better than that. Have a puff."

"Will you take your miserable stuff away?"

"Have some cream-cheese and new bread."

Archy made a blow at him, but Ram only drew back slightly.

"Don't be a coward," he said. "You're an officer and a gentleman, you told me one day, and you keep on trying to coax me into doing what you know would be making me a regular sneak. What should I say when you were gone?"

"Nothing," cried the prisoner. "Escape with me. Come on board, and the lieutenant will listen to what I say, and take you, and we'll make you a regular man-o'-war's-man."

"And set me to fight agen my father, and all my old mates?"

"No; you should not do that."

"And you'd call me a miserable sneak."

"I shouldn't."

"Then you'd think I was, and I should know it, so it would be all the same."

"Then you will not help me?"

"Can't."

"You will not, you mean," said Archy bitterly. "You'd sooner keep me here to rot in the darkness."

"No, I wouldn't, and I'd let you out if I could," cried Ram, with animation. "I like you, that I do, because you're such a brave chap, and not afraid of any of us. S'pose I was a prisoner in your boat, would you let me out?"