The next day, while he was eating his scanty dinner, the lieutenant in charge of the prisoners came in, and, as was his custom, began to argue with them as to the probable termination of the war. Frank had always hoped that he would let him alone, for the lieutenant invariably became enraged if the prisoners endeavored to uphold their Government.
"Well, young man," he exclaimed, walking up to Frank, "how do you get along?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," answered Frank.
"How do you relish being a prisoner? Are you not sorry that you ever took up arms against us?"
"No, I am not," answered Frank, indignantly, "You'll have to fight me again, as soon as I get out of this scrape."
"What made you come down here to fight us?"
"Because I thought you needed a good drubbing."
"Well, we haven't had it yet;" said the lieutenant, stroking his moustache. "Why didn't you take Fort Pemberton? You got the worst of it there. We sunk the Ticonderoga."
"Oh, yes," answered Frank, with a sneer, "no doubt of it. But, on the whole, I think you had better tell that to the marines."
"You don't believe it, then! Well, how do you think this war is going to end?"