"I don't want to call you any hard names, Dick, but in my humble opinion, you were a downright fool," replied Sandy. "It's no sort of use to pound a stone wall with your naked fist. You don't hurt the wall any."
"I like to see a fellow show some spirit," growled Richard. "I thought you had some spunk; but you caved in, and took your flogging as meekly as though you had been one of the saints in Fox's Book of Martyrs."
"I don't know any thing about your martyrs, but I hadn't any notion of getting a double licking, as you did. You got four times as much as I did, just because you were fool enough to resist. If there had been any use in fighting, I would have fought as big as you did."
"I like to see a fellow stand by another when he gets into a scrape," whined Richard.
"Do you mean to say I didn't stand by you? Did I run away from you?" demanded Sandy, indignantly.
"You couldn't run away. The man held you fast, or you would have done so."
"It's very easy for you to talk. I did all I could to make you act like a reasonable fellow; but you were bound to be a fool, and you got all you bargained for."
Richard made no reply to his companion's taunts, for his philosophy was beginning to commend itself to his common sense, as he thought of the difference in the two floggings, and realized that it was all owing to his own stupidity. They walked along in silence, till they reached the Greyhound, but still with "thoughts too big for utterance."
"A pretty condition I am in to go home," said Richard, as he took his place at the helm.
"You will be all right in a day or two," replied Sandy, consolingly.