"Ha—ha!" said he; "you were in a precious funk, John Verney."
"I was, sir," said John.
"Gad! Don't I know the feeling? Well, well," he chuckled, smiling at John, "you climbed up higher than I've ever been in my life. What was it—hey? 'F' in 'alt'?"
"'G,' sir."
"You sang delightfully. Tell your uncle to bring you to see me next time you are in town. You must consider me a friend," he chuckled again—"an old friend. And look ye here," his pleasant voice sank to a whisper, "I daren't tip these tremendous swells, but I feel that I can take such a liberty with you. Shush-h-h! Good-bye."
John scurried away, bursting with pride, feeling to the core the strong grip of the strong man, hearing the thrill of his voice, the thrill which had vibrated in thousands of soldier-hearts. Outside, Fluff was awaiting him.
"Oh, Jonathan, you can sing, and no mistake."
"Five—six—seven mistakes," John answered.
The boys laughed.
John told Fluff what the hero had said to him, and showed the piece of gold.