There was no ground upon which to maintain a quarrel with a person
so persistently genial and so absurdly frank. And in fact Hamilton
was not half so bad as his choleric manifestations seemed to make
him out. Besides, Helm knew just how far to go, just when to stop.
"If I had got furious at you every time there was overwhelming
provocation for it," Hamilton said, "you'd have been long since
hanged or shot. I fancy that I have shown angelic forbearance.
I've given you somewhat more than a prisoner's freedom."
"So you have, so you have," assented Helm. "I've often been
surprised at your generous partiality in my case. Let's have some
hot water with something else in it, what do you say? I won't give
you any more advice for five minutes by your watch."
"But I want some advice at once."
"What about?"
"That girl."
"Turn her loose. That's easy and reputable."
"I'll have to, I presume; but she ought to be punished."
"If you'll think less about punishment, revenge and getting even
with everybody and everything, you'll soon begin to prosper."
Hamilton winced, but smiled as one quite sure of himself.
Jean followed the soldier to a rickety log pen on the farther side
of the stockade, where he found the prisoner restlessly moving
about like a bird in a rustic cage. It had no comforts, that
gloomy little room.
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