"Of course they will!"
"I was never very popular, you see," Hibbert went on thoughtfully. "It was all my fault. I never took any interest in the sports. I mean to be different when I get off this wretched bed—turn over a new leaf; go in for footer, cricket, and that sort of thing. I don't see why I shouldn't do as well as the rest of them, do you, Percival?"
"I don't see why," answered Paul cheerfully.
"And there's a lot of other things I mean to do. Do you know, I've been thinking over so much to-day about our being at the same school—how wonderful it all is that you and I should be at Garside. And when I get out again, do you know what I mean to do?"
Paul shook his head. He was looking at the face, which seemed to grow smaller and smaller, and wondering whether Hibbert would get out again.
"I mean to do my best to pay on that debt my father owed your father—the debt that never has been paid. That'll be something to live for and work for, and God helping me, I'll do it—do it! Don't say that you don't wish it—that you don't want it."
"Certainly not," answered Paul, very softly, falling in with his mood. "You shall do as you think best when you get out again."
There was silence between them for a few moments. Hibbert lay with his hands crossed on his breast and his eyes upturned to the ceiling.
"What have you been doing this afternoon, Percival?" he suddenly asked, as his eyes went back again to Paul's face.
The question took Paul by surprise. How could he tell Hibbert what he had been doing that afternoon—the discovery he had made, what he had seen and what he had heard in the cave?