him, father. It would be so nice to have Cil with us.”
“Nice for you, sir – double responsibility for me.”
“You wouldn’t mind that, father, and we would help you so.”
“Yes, nice lot of help I should get from you.”
“You don’t know, father; but, I say, you will ask him?”
“Ask him yourself, sir,” said the colonel firmly; “here he is.”
For at that moment steps were heard in the veranda, and Captain Norton appeared.
“Don’t let me disturb you,” he said; “I came back for some bills of lading. – Well, Perry, you’re going to stop and keep Cil company, eh? I’ll have the big boat out and newly rigged for you boys. You can fish, and sail, and – ”
“But I’m not going to stay, sir,” said Perry quietly.
“Not going to stay! I’m very sorry. But you must think better of it. Sleep on it, my lad. That journey in the mountains will be too arduous for a lad like you.”
“Oh no, sir. I’m light and strong, and – ”
“Yes? And what? You are afraid of outstaying your welcome? Nonsense, boy; you’ll be conferring a favour upon us. I shall be glad for Cil to have your company. He likes you.”
Perry exchanged glances with his father, who nodded, and his eyes seemed to say, “Now’s your time.”
“Yes, sir, and I like Cil. We get on together, and – and he wants to go with us!”
Perry uttered the last words hurriedly, and then wished that he had not said them, for the captain looked at him quite fiercely.
“What!” he exclaimed.
“Cil said he would give anything to go with us, sir, and I promised to ask my father if he would take him.”
“Well,” said Captain Norton sternly, “and have you asked him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What does he say?”
“He says no,” said the colonel firmly. “There is no doubt, I suppose, that I am going to run some risks, and I begin to feel now that I am hardly warranted in exposing my own son to these dangers. I should certainly not be right in exposing the son of a friend to them, even if that friend consented, which he would not. Am I right, Norton?”
“Quite right,” said the gentleman addressed.
“Then we need say no more about it,” cried the colonel. “Pray, my boy, help us by dissuading your new friend from thinking about so mad a project. We must not make Captain and Mrs Norton regret their kindness to us.”
“No, father. I understand,” said Perry.
“Then there is an end of the matter,” said the colonel.
“Not quite,” said their host, smiling, “I am still hoping that you will stay with us, Perry.”
“No, sir,” said the boy, very firmly now, “I am going with my father. I wish, though, you would let Cil come too.”
“Impossible, my lad,” said the captain.
“Then now let’s change the subject,” said the colonel. “I do not start yet for a week, and plenty of things may occur to alter all our opinions and determinations.”
“They will not alter mine,” said the captain firmly. “If you both alter yours, I shall be very glad. There, I must go now.”
Captain Norton gave Perry a friendly nod, and left them once more.
“There, Perry, you hear?”
“Yes, father, but he may alter his mind.”
“Don’t expect it, my lad; Captain Norton is firm as a rock in all he decides upon.”
“So is Cyril, father.”
“Not quite,” said the colonel, smiling; “the stuff is soft yet, and will have to yield. There, go and tell him you have failed.”
“Yes, father,” said Perry sadly.
“And you mean to go with me?”
“Of course, father.”
“Very well,” said the colonel, and Perry left the room.
Chapter Three
Preparing to Start
“Well, did you ask him?” cried Cyril eagerly, as Perry went out into the parched garden, the boy pouncing out upon him from behind a patch of dry-looking shrubs.
“Yes, I asked him, and then your father came in.”
“Yes,” said Cyril eagerly, “I saw him, and kept in hiding, because I thought it best to leave it for you to do. Well, what did your father say?”
“He as good as said no.”
“Yes, at first,” cried Cyril. “I knew he would. But he came round.”
“And then your father came in.”
“Yes?”
“And my father made me ask him what he had to say about it.”
“Yes? Do go on, old chap. You are so slow.”
“The captain was quite angry, and wouldn’t listen to the idea for a moment.”
“That was because he had made his plans for you to stay with me. But he came round, didn’t he?”
“No,” said Perry sadly. “He was firm as a rock, and they are both dead against it. I should have liked for you to come, Cil.”
There was a dead silence; and as Perry looked at his companion, he saw that his brow was full of deep lines, and that the boy’s face looked hard and set, the eyes fixed, and the lips tightened together into quite a hard crease.
Perry looked at him for a few moments, feeling pained to see the way in which the lad took his disappointment.
“I’m so sorry, Cil,” he said at last.
Cyril did not seem to have heard him, and after a pause Perry spoke again.
“Perhaps your father will give way before we go.”
“What?”
Perry started, the word sounded so sharp and harsh.
“I say perhaps he’ll give way before we go.”
“No, he won’t. He never does. Father says a thing, and means it.”
“It’s very disappointing,” said Perry, “but it’s of no use to fret.”
