When he returned to their box-stall abode he triumphantly announced that “Old Griff” had surrendered with the one portentous sentence, “Ach! I vill see aboud this!” He found Tom sitting back against the board partition, arms about his drawn-up knees, sober and thoughtful.
“Ain’t gettin’ cold feet, are you?” Archer asked.
Tom looked at him, but did not speak.
“You ain’t afraid there’s something else the matter with the engine, after all, are you?” Archer asked, anxiously. “I don’t want this whole bunch guyin’ me—afterr the petition, and all.”
“It’s the way I said,” said Tom dully.
“Not sore ’cause they’ve been kiddin’ us, are you? You can’t blame ’em fer that; they’ve got nothin’ else to do. Look at Columbus, how they guyed him—and all. But they were thankful afterward all right, all right—those greasy Spaniards. D’I tell you ’bout the way I——”
“I don’t mind their kiddin’,” Tom interrupted; “I had a lot of that on the ship. And I know they’ll be glad when the pump’s running. I was thinkin’ about something else. Come on, let’s go out and hike.” He always called those little restricted walks about the enclosure, hiking. He could not forget the good scout word.
When they had walked for some little way Tom looked about to see if there was anyone near. The safest place for secrets and confidences is out in the open. He hesitated, made a couple of false starts, then began:
“There’s somethin’ I’ve always thought about ever since I came here. I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it—I know you like adventures, but you’re kind of——” He meant irresponsible and rattle-brained, but he did not want to say so. “And I wouldn’t want to see you get in any trouble on account of me. You’re different from me. You see, for a special reason I got to go and fight. Whatever you do, will you promise not to say anything to anybody?”
Archer, somewhat bewildered, promised.