"If you say you don't know"—said the man, hesitating in face of the boy's resolution. "Don't you know where they are?"
"Yes, I know; but I ain't goin' to tell you," said Frank, bursting into tears.
"The little Johnny's game," said the soldier who had told him the others were not going to hurt Willy. The corporal said something to this man in an undertone, to which he replied:
"You can try, but it isn't going to do any good. I don't half like it, anyway."
Frank had stopped crying after his first outburst.
"If you don't tell, we are going to shoot you," said the little soldier, drawing his pistol.
The boy shut his mouth close, and looked straight at the corporal. The man laid down his pistol, and, seizing Frank, drew his hands behind him, and tied them.
"Get ready, men," he said, as he drew the boy aside to a small tree, putting him with his back to it.
Frank thought his hour had come. He thought of his mother and Willy, and wondered if the soldiers would shoot Willy, too. His face twitched and grew ghastly white. Then he thought of his father, and of how proud he would be of his son's bravery when he should hear of it. This gave him strength.
"The knot—hurts my hands," he said.