In Honour's Cause Part 49

"The Prince is in yonder," said Frank warningly.

"Prince!" said Drew contemptuously; "I know no Prince but James Francis Stuart. Now, listen; there must be no shilly-shallying on your part; we want every true patriot to draw the sword for his country."

"Ah well, I'm not what you call a true patriot, and so I shan't draw mine."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Drew.

"And bah!" cried Frank. "Don't you play the fool,--unless you want some one to hear you," he continued, in a warning whisper.

"What do I care? I have had great news from my father, and the time has at last come when we must strike for freedom."

"Are you mad? Do you know where you are?" cried Frank, catching him by the arm.

"Not mad, and I know perfectly where I am. Look here, Frank; there must be no more nonsense. I tell you the time has come to strike. Our friends have landed, or are about to land. There is going to be a complete revolution, and before many hours the House of Hanover will be a thing of the past, and the rightful monarch of the House of Stuart will be on the throne."

"Then you are mad," said Frank, with another uneasy glance at the curtained door beyond where they stood, "or you would never talk like this."

"I shall talk how I please now," cried the lad excitedly. "Let them do their worst. I feel ready to wait till the Prince comes out, and then draw my sword and shout, 'G.o.d save King James the Third!'"

"No, you are not. You would not so insult one who has always behaved well to you."

"Bah! I am n.o.body. I don't count. How have he and his behaved to my poor father and to yours? Frank, I know I'm wildly excited, and feel intoxicated by the joyful news; but I know what I am talking about, and I will not have you behave in this miserable, cold-blooded way, when our fathers are just about to receive their freedom and come back to their rights."

"It's no use to argue with you when you're in this state," said Frank coldly; "but I won't sit here and have you say things which may lead to your being punished. I should be a poor sort of friend if I did."

"Pah! Have you no warm blood in you, that you sit there as cool as a frog when I bring you such glorious news?"

"It isn't glorious," said Frank. "It means horrible bloodshed, ruin, and disaster to hundreds or thousands of misguided men."

"Misguided! Do you know what you are talking about?"

"Yes, perfectly."

"Have you no feeling for your father and mother's sufferings?"

"Leave my father and mother out of the question, please."

"I can't. I know you're not a coward, Frank; but you're like a stupid, stubborn blood-horse that wants the whip or spur to make him go. When he does begin, there's no holding him."

"Then don't you begin to use whip or spur, Drew, in case."

"But I will. I must now. It is for your good. I'm not going to stand by and see you and your mother crushed in the toppling-down ruins of this falling house. Do you hear me? The time has come, and we want every one of our friends, young and old, to strike a good bold blow for liberty."

"Let your friends be as mad as they like," said Frank angrily. "I'm not going to stand by either and see Drew Forbes go to destruction."

"Bah!--to victory. There, no more arguing. You are one of us, and you must come out of your sh.e.l.l now, and take your place."

"I'm not one of you," said Frank st.u.r.dily, and too warm now to think of the danger of speaking aloud; "I was tricked into saying something or joining in while others said it, and I am not a Jacobite, and I never will be!"

"I tell you that you are one."

"Have it so if you like; but it's in name only, and I'll show you that I am not in deed. You talked about crying before the Prince, 'G.o.d save King James!' G.o.d save King George! There!"

He spoke out loudly now, but repented the next moment, for fear that he should have dared his companion to execute his threat.

"Coward!" cried Andrew. "The miserable German usurper who has banished your father!"

"You said that you knew I was not a coward."

"Then I retract it. You are if you try to hang back now."

"Call me what you like, I'll have nothing to do with it. They don't want boys."

"They do--every one; and you must come and fight."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, or be punished as a traitor."

"Let them come and punish me, then," said Frank hotly. "I wear a sword, and I know how to use it."

"Then come and use it like a man. Come, Frank. Don't pretend that you are going to show the white feather."

"I don't."

"It is monstrous!" panted the lad, who was wildly excited by his enthusiasm. "I want you--my friend--to stand by me now at a critical time, and you treat me like this. I can't understand it when you know that your father is a staunch supporter of the royal cause."

"Of course I do. What's that got to do with it? Do you think because he has been sent away that he would forget his oath to the King?"

"I said the royal cause, not the usurper's."

"It is false. My father is still in the King's service, waiting for his recall."

"Your father is my father's friend, as I am yours, and he is now holding a high command in King James's army."

"It's not true, Drew; it's one of your tricks to get me to go with you, and do what I faithfully promised I never would do. You know it's false. High in command in King James's army! Why, he has no army, so it can't be true."

"I tell you, it is true. My father and yours are both generals."

"Look here," said Frank, turning and speaking now in an angry whisper, "you're going too far, Drew. I don't want to quarrel--I hate to quarrel. Perhaps I am like a stubborn horse; but I did warn you not to use the whip or spur, and you will keep on doing it. Please let it drop. You're making me feel hot, and when I feel like that my head goes queer, and I hit out and keep on hitting, and feel sorry for it afterwards. I always did at school, and I should feel ten times as sorry if I hit you. Now you sit down, and hold your tongue before you're heard and get into a terrible sc.r.a.pe."

"Sit down! At a time like this!" cried the lad. "Oh, will nothing stir you? Are you such a cowardly cur that you are going to hide yourself among the German petticoats about the Palace? I tell you, it is true: General Sir Robert Gowan throws up his hat for the King."

"Cowardly cur yourself!" cried Frank, whose rage had been bubbling up to boiling-point for the last ten minutes and now burst forth.

"Miserable traitor! I thought better of you!" cried Andrew bitterly.

"Pah! Friends! You are not worth the notice of a gentleman. Out of the way, you wretched cur!"