Then he reached out his hand and shook his young friend’s hand.
“Thank ye, Dick,” he said, warmly. “I like that. Does a fellow good. But I was, you know.”
“I dare say you were thoughtless and got into scrapes, played tricks, and that sort of thing; but you’re such a big, honest, straightforward, manly sort of fellow, with the heart of a boy, that I can’t believe you ever did anything very bad. I say, I beg your pardon, Wyatt,” added Dick hastily.
“What for?”
“Speaking out so freely, and saying you were like a boy.”
“I like it, I tell you. It’s true enough. I’m big and old enough, but I don’t feel so, Dick. Ever since you joined you seem to have been quite a companion.”
“You’ve treated me as if I were.”
“Of course I have. You see, we meet half-way. I’m a youngish sort of fellow, and you’re a regular, thoughtful, old man kind of chap with plenty of brains. That’s how it is, I suppose.”
Dick smiled.
“No,” said Wyatt thoughtfully; “setting aside bits of mischief—pranks, you know—I don’t think I ever did anything very bad; but the dear old governor was down upon me once for telling him a lie. He said it hurt him more than it did me when he gave me the thrashing, but I didn’t believe it then. I do now, for if Bob Hanson is flogged, I believe honestly it will hurt me more than it does him.”