Nick Rabig was lounging at the barred window in an evil temper. If anything could have added to his anger it was the fact that the two young soldiers he most detested had been chosen to stand guard over him and witness his humiliation.
Frank's generous nature sensed the prisoner's feeling, and he studiously avoided catching his glance or taking any notice of him.
But Rabig, incapable of appreciating Frank's motive, chose to interpret this as studied contempt, and his rage flamed forth in a coarse epithet that Frank only half caught but that brought him up all standing.
"What's that you said?" he demanded quickly.
"None of your business!" snarled Rabig, but before the glint in Frank's eyes he did not venture to repeat the insult.
"Now look here, Rabig," said Frank, sternly. "Cut out that sort of stuff. I heard what you said and if you were outside here and weren't in uniform I'd thrash you within an inch of your life."
"Talk is cheap," sneered Rabig. "Why didn't you do it when you were on the other side? You had chance enough."
"I had my reasons," replied Frank, "but they're reasons that a fellow like you couldn't appreciate. As it was, you came within an inch of getting what was coming to you. Some day you will get it, Rabig, and when I cut loose you'll know there's something doing!"