“Then, do this now for me, sir. I couldn’t bear the thought of you going about as you do, and I couldn’t sleep for the horrible thought always with me.”
“What horrible thought?”
“I seemed to see you being carried back into quarters dead—murdered; and I felt that I might stop your gallant young career from being cut short—at any rate that I might try.”
“Even to receiving the imaginary blow yourself, eh?”
“Well, yes, sir,” said the man, smiling sadly. “I think I could be better spared than you.”
There was so much sincerity in the man’s tones, so much earnestness in his way of speaking, that Dick felt moved, and his manner changed.
“You’ve been ill, Hanson, and you are still weak.”
“Oh, no, sir; I could take my place with the gun at any time now.”
“I’m glad of it. But you fancy things.”
Hanson shook his head.