"Better come to your own cabin, sir," he suggested.
"Come, boys," said Colonel Bright. Then to the surgeon, and the
purser: "I am merely scratched. I do not need further
assistance. See you can't do something further for that poor
fellow." He turned and, followed by the boys, walked slowly down
the passage to his own large, comfortable cabin, where he dropped
wearily into a chair, and with a gesture directed the boys to
remove his tunic. No one spoke until he had been partly
undressed, and had laid down on the bunk.
"Well, boys," he said then, with the little twinkling smile they
loved, "I certainly was born lucky! I suppose you are both
simply bursting to know what has happened, and I don't blame you.
I want to say first of all, though, that you have shown a great
deal of discretion; a great deal of discretion indeed."
The boys looked wildly at each other. They were not very strong
on long words, and while they were sure that they were being
praised, they were not sure just exactly what discretion meant.
Beany simpered and let it go at that; Porky mumbled, "Much
obliged."
Colonel Bright pulled his torn shirt over the spot on his broad
shoulder where a wad of absorbent cotton and a lot of
crisscrossed surgeon's plaster marked the slight wound.
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