Verrieul smiled up at Cap so artlessly that Cap looked abashed. That was Verrieul’s way—to smile happily and confidingly at everyone, whether friend or enemy; nor was his smile something put on for the moment, to attain his ends. He was perpetually happy within: eager and full of enthusiasm: ready for anything, like an amiable dog; and it seemed impossible to be with him, or to look at him, even, without feeling toward him as one would feel toward a friendly puppy.

“But I tell you I was beat out—very much beat out,” he told Cap. “I was doing nothing in the army: nothing! Merely sitting and freezing, and of no use to anyone. On a privateer, I thought, I would be active, alert! Better that, I think, than to hide in the woods, like many in my regiment. What do you think?”

Cap growled noncommittally and gave him more rum and milk.

He was so unfortunate, Verrieul continued, as to encounter bad weather, and water poured through the deck-seams of the brig, both day and night. For nearly two weeks he was unable to dry his clothes or obtain warm food, and was greatly troubled with gurry sores. They sighted no prizes, and to make things worse, the mate knocked him down and kicked him. When, consequently, the brig put into Boston two weeks ago, he was overcome by a depression that filled him with a desire to visit his friend Dr. Wheelock for consolation and advice.

“And did you visit him?” Nason wanted to know.

“Visit him?” Verrieul asked. “How could I arrive at Hanover, considering what happened to me?” He moved the ankle on which Doc Means wasn’t working. “I was proceeding alone along the path to Hanover, happy at my approaching reunion with the Revrint Doctor, when I stepped on an insecure stone and suffered a wrench in one ankle. The path was rough; so when I went on, I fell often, and at length I wrenched the other also.” He drew a deep breath. “Then I was indeed unhappy, not only for myself, but because of the pain it would cause the Revrint Doctor if he learned I had died like this: crawling in the forest; of no use in the world. He would have been sad to think that after he had labored so industriously to give me learning and usefulness, all his efforts had come to nothing through one small misstep of mine.”

Cap spoke carelessly. “If I was you, I wouldn’t lose no sleep worrying about how this Doctor, or anybody else for that matter, might take sick on account of fretting about me. People down our way, they got troubles of their own, and they spend all their time griping about themselves. What leads you to think this Doctor might lie awake nights, wringing his hands over your whereabouts? Did you owe him some money, maybe?”