Then the two lads were alone.
“What does it all mean, Drew?” cried Frank passionately. “Oh, I must go back. It’s cowardly to come away from my father now.”
“You can’t go to him. He’ll be under arrest.”
“Arrest!” cried Frank.
“Yes, for certain. But don’t look like that, lad. It’s glorious—it’s grand.”
“But arrest? He said it was an insult. They can’t punish him for that.”
“Punishment? Pooh! What does that matter? Every gentleman in the army will shout for him, and the men throw up their caps. Oh, it’s grand—it’s grand! And they’ll meet, of course; and Sir Robert must—he shall—he will too. He’ll run the miserable German through.”
“What? Fight! My father fight—with him?”
“Yes, as sure as we should have done after such a row at school.”
“But—with swords?”