“Oh, we know that you are not bragging,” said the doctor. “You mean right; so does Frank. And now let me say this. The first thing last night that I thought, was that you, Fred, must go, and that I would go with you.”
“Impossible,” said the professor shortly.
“Yes, I thought it well over, and dearly as I long to go and help poor Hal, I am obliged to confess that it would be impossible.”
“Hear, hear,” said the professor; “just as impossible as for Frank to insist upon going with me to stick his head into the lion’s mouth, get it bitten off, and spoil my plans as well. Once more, it is impossible for either of you two to go; so be sensible and help me to get off, and trust me like a brother to help and save our brother in distress.”
“I will,” said the doctor firmly. “Now, Frank.”
“I won’t,” cried the youth.
“I ask you as a brother,” said the doctor.
“Yes, as a little brother—as a boy whom you look upon as wanting in manliness to help at a time like this. Both of you cry impossible. I’m much younger than either of you, but surely I’ve got some brains. Always up to now, and it was the same when poor old Hal was with us, you three treated me as if I was your equal, and it made me feel older. But now, when there is quite a crisis in my life, and I want to prove to you that young as I am I can be manly and help to save our poor Hal from the clutches of these savage Arab fiends with their cruelty and slavery, you combine to fight against me, and it is impossible—impossible.”
“Humph!” grunted the professor, shaking his head at the doctor, who shook his in turn.
“You talk too much, Frank, lad,” said the latter, in an injured tone. “Do be cool, and think a little. I’m sure you would see then that you are wrong. What we want in this is calm matter-of-fact planning.”