Part 25 (2/2)
”Yes; and that's the last straw.”
”I say, Hanson, weren't you once a gentleman? Tell me.”
”Silence!” cried the man fiercely, and the sentry once more came to the door.
”Nothing: all right.”
”Don't you ever speak to me again like that,” said the man in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.
”Very well, I will not: but I know now, and I shall think as much as I like.”
”There, go now, sir, before I get mad.”
”No: you will not hurt me.”
”You don't know that.”
”Yes, I do. You respect me too much.”
”It's a lie. I hate you for your youth and good looks and luck, and the way in which other people spoil you, boy.”
”Nonsense! You do like me, and if we were in action you'd do anything to save me from being hurt.”
The man uttered a low growl like some savage animal, but his dark eyes softened, and he turned away his face from the light which streamed in through the bars as d.i.c.k went on:
”The natural result of knowing that is that I've got to like you.”
The man gazed at him mockingly.
”What!” he cried. ”You, an officer, and I the most blackguardly private in the troop?”
”I meant as a brave man and a good soldier, and it hurts me to see such a one as you going to the dogs.”
”You don't know what you're talking about this morning, boy,” said Hanson bitterly.
”Boy? I am your officer, Private Hanson.”
”Yes, sir, I was forgetting myself; and I shall forget myself more if you stay, so please go.”
”That's what I want you to do,” said d.i.c.k earnestly.
”I want you to forget what you are now, and be what you used to be.”
The prisoner drew his breath hardly, as if he were in pain.
”I want to be a friend to you as much as I, an officer, can be to one of our men.”
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