And if you are careful not to learn things, that will not be a very
great one."

Fred was not at all afraid, as a matter of fact, as he set out. Before
he had stepped across the mark that stood for the border he had been
hugely depressed. He had been friendless and alone. He had been worse
than friendless, indeed, since the only man for many miles about who
knew him was his bitter enemy. Now he had found that he could still
inspire a man like Ernst with belief in his truthfulness and honesty,
and the knowledge did him a lot of good. And then, of course, he had
another excellent reason for not being afraid. He was entirely ignorant
of the particular dangers that were ahead of him. He had no conception
at all of what lay before him, and it does not require bravery not to
fear a danger the very existence of which one is entirely without
knowledge.

The idea of walking all through the summer night, as Ernst had advised
him to do, did not seem bad to him at all. As a scout at home, he had
taken part in many a hike, and if few of them had been at night, he was
still thoroughly accustomed to being out-of-doors, without even the
shelter of a tent or a lean-to. Nor was he afraid of losing his way, for
as long as the stars shone above, as they did brilliantly now, he had a
sure guide.

Fred wasn't tired, for he had enraged Suvaroff, who had seemingly wanted
him to be frightened, by sleeping during the journey to Virballen
whenever he could. It had been comfortable enough on the train; he had
not been treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. And he had, as a matter
of fact, been aroused only an hour before the train had reached the
frontier.