“Can you doubt it?” laughed the boy, his elbows upon the table, his chin in his palms. “It seems that this is the only place in which I can accomplish anything.”
The tall man nodded as though he agreed perfectly with this saying.
“It seems so indeed,” replied he. “You had the long journey to Philadelphia practically for nothing.”
“And I don’t know when I worked harder,” said the other. “But everything seemed against my success—especially this Nat Brewster.”
A sour, vindictive look came into the man’s face; his curved nose seemed more hawk-like than ever and his thin lips were set in a straight line.
“As far as I have been able to judge,” went on the boy, “young Brewster is quite a person.”
The dwarf jogged Nat’s elbow and grinned up at him, but the young mountaineer shook his head warningly.
“Well, he was person enough to give me a nasty fall from the top of that porch,” said the tall man, morosely.
The lad across the table laughed amusedly.
“Never mind, Chesbrook,” said he. “Your hurts will heal. And then you got them in a good cause. It’s not for a lieutenant in the royal navy to make faces about a few bruises.”