“Look!—his face! What does it mean?”
“Eh!—mean! What?”
“Don’t you see? That horrible green!”
“Tchah! what are you talking about?” said the major, picking up a leaf and holding it over his head. “Now, then, what colour is my face?”
“Green,” said Mark, smiling. “How stupid of me!”
“Well, we will not call it stupid, my lad; but with so many real difficulties we must not make imaginary ones. Why, Mark, this voyage is making a man of you—self-reliant, business-like, and strong. When we get over it—”
“Shall we get over it, sir?” said Mark sadly.
“Ah!” said the major, speaking in a low tone so as not to disturb the patients; “now, that’s a chance for a sermon for you, my lad, only I can’t preach. Look here, Mark, ten thousand things may happen to us, one of which is that we may all die here of starvation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then, that’s ten thousand to one. Bah! Don’t fidget now. We have just landed in a little paradise, after running terrible risks from spear and kris, explosion, fire, storm, and wreck. You ought to be thankful, and not growl.”