“Did you explain to him what a trump was?” said Dick dryly.
“No, I didn’t; but I shook hands as if I meant it; and he made a face, for I gave him a grip such as he isn’t used to, for my paws are rather heavy, and he has a hand thin and soft as a girl’s.”
“Poor fellow!” said Dick. “I’ve felt that squeeze of yours. Regular walnut-crusher. Was that all?”
“No; I began to find fault with his majesty about what happened to-day, and pointed out what he ought to have done.”
“How did he take it?”
“He smiled, and said I was quite right, but that out here they are not used to fighting like we do: that his men could tight like furies behind stone walls or in hand-to-hand lighting on horseback, but we had shown him to-day what might be done: and he ended by saying. ‘Stand by me, and help me.’”
“And you?”
“Well, I said we would; but I don’t like it, Dick.”
“Why?”
“Because, as I’ve said before, we’re out of place.”