"We must get a message through to Nelson," he chattered. "We must."
The boy felt himself at war with destiny, and crushed by it. He recalled the Man of Despair in the Iron Cage in Pilgrim's Progress. The fate of the country was in his hands. He alone had the knowledge that could save her, and he could not use it. He was a dumb thing, possessed of a vast world-secret, which he could not impart for lack of voice.
"If there's no other way, we must cut our way through."
The Parson met him with a rough,
"Nonsense."
"Why?" hotly.
"Impossible—that's why."
It was the first time he had thrown that dead-wall word across the lad's path, and it maddened the boy.
After all, he was responsible, not this beefy soldier.
"That's a word we don't know in our Service, sir," he cried with scornful nostrils.