“Yes, sir, at least—.” Dan stopped and his face broke into a smile.
“Oh, so there is something after all?”
“The only thing I want,” replied Dan with a laugh, “is to make the football team.”
“I see. Well, that, I fear, is something beyond me. I’m sorry, for there’s nothing in reason I wouldn’t gladly do for the boy that saved my boy’s life. I’d like you to feel sure of that, Vinton.”
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t think I deserve much—much gratitude. You see, Mr. Pennimore, I ought to have kept him from going in there. But I didn’t have any idea he’d really do it. Why, the place was like a—a furnace, sir! It was mighty plucky of him to do it, sir!”
“Maybe it was, but I’m inclined to think,” answered Mr. Pennimore dryly, “that he didn’t know what he was in for. The real pluck and heroism, my boy, was yours, for you realized what it meant to go into that house. Didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did,” acknowledged Dan. “In fact—in fact I—I was scared to death, sir, and that’s the truth. I guess there wasn’t much heroism about me. I’d have given anything if I could have cut and run!”
“Then why didn’t you?” asked the other gently.
“Why—I—I couldn’t!” answered Dan, with a look of surprise at the questioner. “You wouldn’t have, would you, sir?”
“Not if my boy had been in there,” answered Mr. Pennimore thoughtfully, “but—if it had been anyone else, who knows whether I’d have found the courage?”