Curiosity made him try to be communicative, and he turned to his silent companion.
“Think there really will be any fighting?” he said.
Andrew turned to him sharply.
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“Simple reason: because I want to know.”
“You have some other reason.”
“Because I want to send word to the Prince that you are a rebel, and intend to go and join the Pretender’s followers, of course,” said Frank sarcastically. “Don’t be so spiteful, Drew. We can’t live here like this. Why don’t you let bygones be bygones?”
“What interest can it be to you?” said Andrew, ignoring the latter part of his fellow-prisoner’s remark.
“Do you suppose such a rising can take place without its being of interest to every one? There, we won’t talk about it unless you like. Look here, I can’t sit still doing nothing; it gives me pins and needles in my hands and feet. I’ll ring and ask Captain Murray to let us have a draught board if you’ll play.”
“Pish!” cried Andrew contemptuously; and Frank sighed and gave up again, to take refuge in staring out of the window for some time.