He knows the country." Bert folded the
map and put it back in his knapsack.
"I'm sorry about your ankle," Tom said weakly. "With a chance like that!"
He whistled, and leaned back, with his hands clasped around a knee, gazing
steadfastly at the roof of the tent. Bert rested his chin in his hands and
sat silently, looking at him. Tom's eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened
until they were white.
"Bert...." he began, then stopped.
"Yes?"
Their eyes met. Tom leaned forward and clutched his cousin's arm. "Do you
think, Bert, that Captain Moffat would let me go in your place?"
"I don't know," answered Bert. "But we can ask. Asking won't do any harm."
"Will you ask him? Will you really?"
"Do you want to go? Without knowing any more about it than that?"
"More than anything else in the world. Do you think he will let me go,
Bert? Tell him that I'm not afraid--that I can be trusted to carry out
orders. You know I can do it, don't you, Bert?"
"Yes, I know you can do it. And I thought that you'd probably want to do
it. That's why I disobeyed orders and told you. I wanted to give you the
chance to volunteer."
"I wonder if the Captain'll just laugh and say that I'm a raw recruit.
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