"The perpetrator of such atrocious puns ought to be severely punished," retorted Yaspard.
"He is always sorry for them afterwards," said Bill.
"I wish I were not free," muttered Gloy. "I wanted to go to Noostigard," and he exchanged regretful looks with his cousins; but Fred lifted the cloud from their spirits.
"I am going to ask you," he said, addressing Yaspard, "to take me with you to Boden; and perhaps you will allow Gloy to come as my henchman?"
"You! what? Why, didn't Uncle Brüs—you're never going to beard the lion in his den."
"That is just what I intend," Fred answered, smiling.
"But—oh, you know I'd like it—but you will be insulted. It will be horrid. There will be a row, sure as anything. I can't bear to think of what he may say; and, being an old man, you won't like to answer back, and—you have no idea what bitter words Uncle Brüs says when he is angry."
Yaspard's eyes filled with tears, and he hung his head for shame, as he pictured to himself the reception which that gracious, gallant young knight was likely to receive in Boden.
"Don't fear!" said Harry Mitchell, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Our captain has a way of his own of turning thunder-clouds into sunshine."
"He has a temper, and he likes to be monarch of all he surveys," added Tom; "but he is the finest fellow out; and he will tackle old Adiesen—beg pardon, the Laird of Boden—in just the properest way. You needn't be afraid to give Fred a passage in your boat."