Colonel Cranstoun looked deeply annoyed. 'Who authorised you to turn the fore-deck into a recruiting depot?' he demanded sternly of Horn, who cast an imploring look at George.
'It was my fault, Colonel,' interposed George at once, adding naïvely, 'I was afraid that if you knew you would prevent us.'
Under pretence of giving his moustache a twist, Colonel Cranstoun hid a smile behind his hand. 'Follow me to my cabin, George,' he said, and, curtly returning the dejected Horn's salute, walked off, followed by George, who felt decidedly cheap.
Terence, left behind, looked after his friend with an air of comical resignation, and inquired of the sergeant-major in a dolorous whine: 'Aw, sergeant dear, can I offer you a guinea to take back the shilling I had of you just now?'
'Oh, dry up!' snapped the disgusted Horn. 'Why couldn't you say you knew the colonel? I'll get my head blown off. But how was I to know? You're booked anyhow,' he wound up, with a snarl.
'Faith, 'tis cooked as well as booked I am,' sighed Terence. 'He'll never let George enlist, and then what will I do at all, at all?'
'Take him out of this!' vociferated Horn. 'No; let him stay. The colonel may want him when he's done with that other lump of mischief.' He stalked off in high dudgeon.
Meantime Colonel Cranstoun had shut himself in his cabin with George. 'Tell me the meaning of all this, my boy,' he said kindly. 'Is it a case of bolt?'
George nodded gloomily; then burst out with impetuous pleading: 'Don't ask me to go back, Colonel Cranstoun, for I can't and I won't.'
'Let me hear your story,' said the colonel; and as briefly as possible George gave him the details of his difference with his father. When he had finished, Colonel Cranstoun laid a hand upon his shoulder.