“That is loyal of you, Dick. It shows the spirit of constancy to your friends, and a fellow who is not constant to his friends is a very poor chap, indeed.”
“Perhaps,” said the boy, “I might go just to see what the East is like, if I didn’t know you’d want me to go into one of those schools. I’ll not do that, because I want to be healthy and strong.”
Frank smiled.
“Do I look unhealthy?” he asked.
“N-no; but I don’t believe you could stand it to live like a cow-puncher.”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course you couldn’t! No tenderfoot could.”
This time Merry laughed outright. The wisdom of the boy was amusing.
“Well, we’ll not argue about that; but you can see that I am not weak-eyed, flat-chested, or sickly. Yet when I was a year or two younger than you I was weak and sickly, so that there were fears concerning my ability to ever become strong and sturdy. I began to train to acquire strength and health. I kept at it persistently, and the improvement in a few months was surprising. At your age I was stronger than you are now.”
A look of indignant contradiction flashed over the expressive face of the boy.