Whiterock flung something from the boy, and, jumping out of the bunk, still laughing loudly, lifted him on to the ground.
"Captain," he called out, "these old bunks here are full of pine-snakes, which have crawled into them for warmth. Fortunately they are quite harmless. Now then, men, they won't hurt you!"
When all the men had returned they declared that it was impossible to sleep any more that night. So more coffee was made, and they all sat and lay about near the fire, talking of their future plans. Cyril began to count the men, but was still so sleepy that he could not quite decide whether their number was nearer twenty than thirty.
For some time no one took any notice of the boy. But at last the Captain did so, and jeered at Whiterock for turning nursemaid.
Then they all began to talk of Cyril, much to his discomfiture.
Presently Whiterock asked him if he would like to remain with them as his adopted son, and in time would become one of the band.
"Ah, like Wolfgang," said the Captain, stroking his long beard. "He was a lad of about your age. We found him. I won't say where, but he grew up amongst us, and for cleverness and pluck there wasn't a man of us all that could beat him. Ah, he would have been captain if he had lived! He was killed in a scuffle with the police. He died fighting nobly."
Cyril had his own opinion about the nobleness of fighting the public officers of law and order. But he felt sorry for Wolfgang. The lad probably knew no better.
"Well, little 'un," said Whiterock, "would you like to stay with us and be my boy?"
"But my father?" said Cyril tremulously, looking appealingly at him.
"Oh, he's dead," said Whiterock hastily. "Now come, boy, don't make a scene."
Cyril turned his back on him. He was struggling with all his might to keep back the tears which would not be suppressed. His father, his dear, kind father, slain by that coarse, ruffianly fellow! Oh, it was too cruel!
"What's the matter?" demanded the Captain.
Whiterock crossed over to him, and said something rather low in his ear.
"Oh!" cried the Captain. "But that's only the fortune of war. Come here, my boy," he added to Cyril.
Cyril went up to him with a pale, resolute face.
"Whiterock saved your life, lad," said the Captain. "You must remember that. There wasn't one of us who would have done so much for you at such a time."
"He took my father's life," replied Cyril, looking up with flashing eyes, the hot blood mounting to his very brow.
"But he saved your life, lad," remonstrated the Captain.
"I know he saved my life," cried Cyril, "and I just wish he hadn't! As he killed my father, I would rather have died than——"
"Be quiet!" thundered the Captain. "Will you stay with us or no?"
"No, a thousand times no!" answered the boy boldly.
"I won't have him," muttered Whiterock sulkily.
"But I will," cried the Captain. "Look here, my lad, I honour you. Yes, I honour you for loving and respecting your father. You're a plucky lad! And if you like to stay with us you shall be my adopted son. Do you hear what I say?"
The men uttered various exclamations, tending to show that what they considered "a piece of rare luck" had come in Cyril's way.
Then they all waited for the boy's answer.
"No, thank you, Captain," he said politely, "I cannot."
"What for, lad? Why not?" demanded the Captain wrathfully.
"Oh, because 'Noblesse oblige!'" replied the boy.
"What do you say?"
Cyril repeated "Noblesse oblige" distinctly, in tones which were heard all over the great room.
"How do you explain those words?" asked the Captain.
"Oh, don't you understand them?" said Cyril, surprised that such a great man as the Captain should be ignorant of their meaning. "My father"—his voice shook a little as he said the name—"told me Noblesse oblige means rank imposes obligations, and that much is expected from one in a good position. You see, Captain, gentlemen can't do mean, dishonourable things. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you see I come of a race of honourable gentlemen who would scorn to rob and plunder."
The Captain laughed loudly, rudely. "What a fine gentleman we've got here!" said he; "let's look at him." He dragged Cyril forward into the middle of the room. "There, my fine fellow, look around you," cried he. "Do you know several of these men are gentlemen of birth and breeding?"
"Then they've forgotten it," said Cyril calmly.
A murmur of anger went round the room. "Forgotten what?" cried one man.
"Noblesse oblige," replied Cyril.
"Absurd," cried the Captain. "Have you no better reason than that for refusing my offer?"
Cyril was silent.
"Speak out," cried the Captain.
Slowly but bravely Cyril said that there was yet another reason. He could not join them because he was a follower of Christ, who made the law of love, saying, "By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one to another."
A cry of rage burst from most of the men upon hearing this. But one or two drew rough hands across their faces, as if to hide them for a moment.