Archie looked up, but did not deign to reply to the humiliating question.
"All right, lad," said Bill, understanding. "Is you ready?"
Archie knew that his strength and courage were to be tried. He was tired, and cold, and almost hopeless; but, then and there, he resolved to prove his blood and breeding—to prove to these men, who had been unfailingly kind to him, but yet had naturally looked with good-natured contempt upon his fine clothes and white hands, that fortitude was not incompatible with a neat cravat and nice manners. Beyond all that, however, it was his aim to prove that Sir Archibald Armstrong's son was the son of his own father.
"Lead on, Bill," he said.
"Good lad!" Bill muttered.
Archie bent to the blast.
CHAPTER XXXVII
In Which the Men are Lost, the Dictator is Nipped and Captain Hand Sobs, "Poor Sir Archibald!"