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?"