Frank had been strangely silent while dressing; and as he now joined his cousin at the window, Andy noticed for the first time that he was looking rather “peaked.”
“Here, what’s the matter with you, old fellow?” he asked, with his customary breezy impulsiveness. “You don’t seem a bit tickled over the idea of spending a whole day in the saddle, and that’s a fact.”
“Well,” replied the other, with a little smile, “the fact is, Andy, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”
“How’s that?” demanded his cousin, aggressively. “I don’t think I’d better try going today, and that’s a fact,” Frank went on.
“Are you sick? Is that what ails you? Seemed to me you kicked around a whole lot last night, now I come to think of it. Why, didn’t you call me up, Frank? What’s the matter? I just bet the heat was too much for you yesterday. We shouldn’t have done that long ride on so nasty a day; felt like I was drawn through a straw myself, though I’m all right now. But do you really mean that you won’t ride out today with the boys?”
“The way I feel now, it would be silly for me to try it,” Frank continued, with a little shake of his head. “I seem to be dizzy, and to sit on the back of a lively pony for even an hour would upset me like everything.”
“That’s a shame now, ain’t it, Frank?”
“Oh! I don’t mind it so very much. You’ll only be gone a couple or three days at the most; and I’ll have Mrs. Ogden, Charley Woo, and little Becky to keep me company. And then, if I’m feeling myself by tomorrow, why I might take a notion to look you boys up by the air route. Don’t worry about me, Andy.”
“I don’t mean to, because I expect to stay with you and see that you get the right kind of care,” said Andy, with his positive face in evidence.
“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” retorted Frank. “I’ll be in good hands, and the chances are will be all right by noon. So you’re just going along with Uncle and the rest.”