Fred turned away angrily.
“Well, sir, I can’t help speaking plainly; and I thought it better to tell you what the lads are saying about it.”
“I cannot help what they say, sir; I am doing my duty. Now go back to yours.”
“Yes, captain; but don’t be angry with your old servant as followed you to the wars. Give me leave to fight Nat, and that will be something.”
“Impossible, sir.”
“But it would keep the men’s tongues quiet, sir. Just about a quarter of an hour would do for me to thrash him, and it would be all right afterwards. The men wouldn’t talk so much about you.”
Fred marched up and down without a word.
“You see, sir, it’s like this. Young Master Scar Markham’s bouncing about and ordering and behaving as if he was everybody.—You won’t fight him, sir?”
“No!”—emphatically.
“Then why not do something just to show him he isn’t everybody, and that you are not afraid of him?”