“Well, then, perhaps they would come down, or up—yes, up; they wouldn’t come down, and find you helpless, because we should meet them and come back to help you.”
“We could fight,” said Morny coolly, “and sink their canoes with the big guns.”
“What, when they are fast lashed to one side, and your deck all of a slope? No, we are not going, so don’t bother about it any more. Who knows but what there may be towns of savages right up inland, or up some other river farther along the coast? I dare say it’s a beautiful country—and there, I won’t hear another word. We are not going away to leave you in the lurch. Uncle said as much. He likes the Count too well.”
Morny laughed merrily.
“Why,” he said, “he’s always quarrelling with my father and hurting his feelings by the way in which he speaks about our great Emperor.”
“Stuff!” cried Rodd indignantly. “That’s only Uncle Paul’s way. He always talks like that when he gets on to politics. Why, I have a sham quarrel with him sometimes about Napoleon. I pretend that I admire him very much.”
“Pretend!” cried Morny eagerly.
“Well, I tell uncle that he was a very great general and soldier.”
“Yes, yes! Grand!” said the French lad, flushing.
“And that I shouldn’t have wondered at all if he had conquered the whole world.”