Again he packed his things; again he drew the string tight, and again it snapped.
"Lord! man, don't be so hard on it." Frank looked up with a kind of patient fury.

His instinct was to kick every single object that lay before him on the path as hard as possible in every direction.
"Have you any more string ?" he said.
"No.

Stick the things in your pocket and come on." Frank made no answer.

He went to the hedge and drew out a long supple twig of hazel, stripped it of its leaves, and once more tried, with it, to tie up his parcel.

But the angle was too acute, and just as the twig tightened satisfactorily it snapped, and this time the razor slid out sideways into a single minute puddle that lay on the path.
The Major snorted in mirthful impatience.
"But--" "Kindly let me alone," said Frank icily.