In Honour's Cause Part 13

"Can't; he wouldn't go. He's such a hot, peppery fellow too."

"Then he is as big a coward as you are."

"Look here," said Frank, almost in a whisper. "I don't know so much as you do about what we ought to do here, but I suppose it means a lot of trouble; and if it does I can't help it, but if you call me a coward again I'll hit you straight in the face."

"Coward then!" cried Andrew, in a sharp whisper. "Now hit me, if you dare."

As he spoke he drew himself up to his full height, threw out his chest, and folded his arms behind him.

Quick as thought Frank doubled his fist, and as he drew back his arm raised his firm white knuckles to a level with his shoulder, and then reason checked him, and he stood looking darkly into his fellow-page's eyes.

"I knew it," cried the latter--"a coward; and your friend is worse than you, or you wouldn't have chosen him."

"Oh! don't you abuse him," said Frank, with his face brightening; and his eyes shone with the mirth which had suddenly taken the place of his anger.

"What! do you dare to mock me?" cried Andrew.

"No; only it seemed so comic. You know, I've only had one friend since I've been here. How could I ask you?"

For a _few_ moments Andrew stood gazing at him, as if hardly knowing how to parry this verbal thrust, and then the look which had accompanied it did its work.

"I say," he said, in an altered tone, "this is very absurd."

"Yes, isn't it?" said Frank. "I never thought we two were going to have such a row."

"But you called me a fool."

"Didn't! But you did call me a coward. Ha--ha! and yourself too. But, I say, Drew, you don't think I'm a coward, do you?"

Andrew made no reply.

"Because I don't think I am," continued Frank. "I always hated to have to fight down yonder. And as soon as we began I always felt afraid of hurting the boy I fought with; but directly he hit out and hurt me I forgot everything, and I used to go on hammering away till I dropped, and had to give in because he was too much for me, and I hadn't strength to go on hammering any more. But somehow," he added thoughtfully, and with simple sincerity in his tones, "I never even then felt as if I was beaten, though of course I was."

"But you used to beat sometimes?" said Andrew quietly.

"Oh yes, often; I generally used to win. I've got such a hard head and such bony knuckles. But, I say, you don't think I should be afraid to fight, do you?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't be," cried Andrew, with animation, "and--and, there I beg your pardon for treating you as I have and for calling you a coward. It was a lie, Frank, and--will you shake hands?"

There was a rapid movement, and this time the boy's fist flew out, but opened as it went and grasped the thin white hand extended toward him.

"I say, don't please; you hurt," said Andrew, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his face.

"Oh, I beg your pardon," cried the boy. "I didn't mean to grip so hard.

I say, though, is it as the officers say to the soldiers?"

"What do you mean?" said Andrew wonderingly.

"As you were?"

"Of course. I'm sure our fathers never quarrelled and fought, and I swear we never will."

"That's right," cried Frank.

"And I never felt as if I liked you half so much as I do now. Why, Frank, old fellow, you seem as if you had suddenly grown a year older since we began to quarrel."

"Do I?" said the boy, laughing. "I am glad. No, I don't think I am.

But, I say, we mustn't quarrel often then, for I shall grow old too soon."

"I said we'd never quarrel again," said Andrew seriously; "and somehow you are really a good deal older than I have thought. But, I say, we must go and meet Mr Selby to-night."

"Oh yes, of course; and I shall always stand by and stop you in case you turn peppery to any one else, and stop you from righting him."

"If it was in a right cause you would not."

"I shouldn't?"

"No; I believe you would help me, and be ready to draw on my behalf."

Frank turned to the speaker with a thoughtful, far-off look in his eyes, as if he were gazing along the vista of the future at something happening far away.

"I hope that will never come," he said quietly, "for when I used to fight with my fists, as I said, I always forgot what I was about. How would it be if I held a drawn sword?"

"You would use it as a gentleman, a soldier, and a man of honour should," said Andrew warmly.

"Should I?" said Frank sadly.

"Yes, I am sure you would."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE TRAITORS' HEADS.

"Where is Mr Selby's club?" asked Frank, as they started that afternoon to keep their appointment.

"You be patient, and I'll show you," replied Andrew.

"But we are not going by water, are we?"

"To be sure we are. It's the pleasantest way, and we avoid the crowded streets. I am to introduce you, so I must be guide."

This silenced Frank, who sank back in his seat when they stepped into a wherry without hearing the order given to the waterman; and once more his attention was taken up by the busy river scene, which so engrossed his thoughts that he started in surprise on finding that they were approaching the stairs where they had landed upon their last visit, but he made no remark aloud.

"I did not know it was in the city," he said, however, to himself; and when they landed, and Andrew began to make his way toward Fleet Street, his suspicion was aroused.

"Is the club anywhere near that court where there was the fight?" he said suddenly.