“It can be helped, Dad. That’s why I sneaked in here to-night. We got to hold a council of war, you and I. And I guess I’m the one with the only idea.”
“Fire away, general, but make it brief. It’s time little boys—I mean little generals—were asleep.”
“No,” contradicted Jimmie. “It’s time they woke up, if they’re going to save Colonel Brinton. Listen, Dad: how far did you tell me you tramped in one day when you went on that hunting trip last April? Twenty-two miles, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, about twenty-two. Why?”
“Tuckered out after it?”
“Not a bit. You see, I’m used to exercise. And the work I do in my garden keeps me in pretty good shape. But why—”
“Dad, you can’t stay here.”
“What? Has your mother—”
“She hasn’t said a thing. I guess there’s nothing left for her to say. She’s said about everything already. But you can’t. It will be like being in jail. You saw how it was to-day. Well, it’ll be like that to-morrow and the next day and the next day after that and all the days. And it’ll keep getting worse.”
The old man shuddered involuntarily at the prospect.