“No, we don’t,” said Frank impatiently; “we want a good plan, of course, but we want plenty of pluck and good manly dash. Impossible, you both say, because each of you has his own pet plan, one of you for Government interference, the other for going alone in disguise, and consequently you combine against me for one of you to carry out his.”
“Well, and if you cannot propose a better ought you not to give way to us?”
“No,” said Frank, “because it would be horrible to settle down here at home, thinking of that poor fellow’s sufferings. How do you think I could ever get on with any study? I should go out of my mind.”
“But look here, Frank,” said the doctor.
“I can’t look there,” said Frank. “I can’t reason with you two. I want to act; I want to be up and doing, so as to feel that every day I am a little nearer getting poor Harry free.”
“That’s quite reasonable, Bob,” said the professor, slowly and thoughtfully. “But I say, Franky, my boy, I don’t want to be obstinate; I don’t want to hinder you if you can suggest a better plan. We only say that so far your ideas are impossible. Come, now have you any other plan?”
“Yes,” said the lad excitedly. “Brother Hal is sitting out there in chains, looking longingly year after year for the help that does not come, and eating his poor heart out with despair because those to whom he should look for help do not come.”
“That’s all true enough,” said the doctor sadly.
“But the question is,” said the professor, holding out one hand and apparently putting down every word he said with the other: “How—are—we—to—help—the—poor—boy?”
“Let’s all three go,” said Frank hotly.