It came out at last. During one of the rests they were all sitting in the grass, Jack among the others, busily intent upon cleaning the precious "cannon" with a sleeve of his shirt that he had sacrificed to the purpose. Sir Bryson suddenly moved closer to him.
"Young man," he began, and his lofty tone could not hide the genuine feeling, "they tell me you saved my life yesterday. I don't remember much about it myself."
Jack looked up, alarmed and frowning. "That's all right," he said hurriedly. "Everybody did what he could."
"And Linda and Mrs. Worsley too," Sir Bryson went on. "It was very gallantly done."
"Vassall would have done it, only I was nearer," Jack said gruffly. "Please don't say anything more. It makes me feel like a fool!"
"It must be spoken of," Sir Bryson persisted. "But it's difficult—I hardly know——"
Jack did not perceive the exact nature of the old gentleman's difficulty. He got up. "It was all in the day's work," he said awkwardly. "You don't need to feel that it changes the situation at all."
Sir Bryson rose too. All tousled, creased and bedraggled as he was, the little governor was never more truly dignified. "You do not understand me," he said. "I—I am very grateful. Moreover, I am sorry for things I said. I desire to acknowledge it here before our friends who were present when I said them."
Jack looked away in acute embarrassment. "Very handsomely said, Sir Bryson," he muttered.
This ended the incident for the present. The air was much cleared by it. However, it gave rise to something it was necessary for Jack to unburden himself of. He waited until he could get Sir Bryson away from the others.