“Yes,” said the captain grimly; “but in a fight young and old run equal chances, while in the exposure and suffering of forced marches the young and untried fare worse than the old and seasoned. Drew Forbes was a weak, girlish fellow, all brain and no muscle. I am in hopes, though, that he may have broken down, and be lying sick at some cottage or farmhouse.”
“Hopes!” cried Frank.
“Yes, he may get well with rest. Better than being well and strong, and on his way to suffer by the rope or axe.”
Frank shuddered.
“Now then,” cried the captain sharply, to change the conversation; “you found my advice good?”
“Yes, yes,” said Frank.
“Then take some more. Look here, Frank; the doctor and I were talking about you last night, and he is growing very anxious. He said the blade was wearing out the scabbard, and that you were making an old man of yourself.”
“Not a young one yet,” said the boy, smiling sadly.
“Never mind that. You’ll grow old soon enough. He says what I think, that you never go out, and that you will break down.”
“Oh, absurd! I don’t want exercise.”