“Yes, sir—something for you to handle like a bay’net if they won’t let us go quietly.”
“Right—right!”
“And the next thing, sir, is for you to get strong to handle it.”
“Ah, and I am so weak!”
“Of course you are, sir, when you have had nothing but a drop of water for days.”
“For days!”
“Yes, sir; and now your breakfast’s waiting. It’s only bread and fruit and water, but it’s wonderful stuff to put strength in a man, and you have got to begin getting it into you at once.”
“No, no; not yet,” pleaded Archie. “Let me lie and think a bit first.”
“Not a minute, sir,” cried the poor fellow’s nurse. “You feel as if you couldn’t touch anything, of course, but your horspittle orderly says it is only making a beginning; and here you are—cocoa-nutful clear, fresh water, so tip it down at once.”
Archie protested feebly, and then obeyed; and after taking a sip or two from the thick-lipped vessel, he ended by finishing the cooling draught with something like avidity.