Real Gold Part 14

"I don't know what he'd have said if you'd shot me," grumbled Cyril.

The colonel coughed.

"You precious nearly did, you know," continued Cyril querulously. "I heard the shots go crashing in among the bushes as I ran."

"Then you shouldn't have come prowling about the camp in the middle of the night," cried the colonel. "Of course, sir, I took you for some wild beast or marauding Indian."

"Well," said Cyril, "now you know, sir, and I suppose I can go back and try to sleep."

"Go back? Yes, sir, first thing--to your father," cried the colonel fiercely. "I suppose he does not know you have come?"

"No, sir."

"Of course not. A pretty disgraceful escapade, upon my word, sir! I only wish I were back in my regiment, and you were one of my subalterns.

I'd punish you pretty severely for this, I promise you."

"Would you, sir?" said Cyril drearily. "I thought I was getting punished enough. I'm sorry I disturbed you, sir; I only wanted to get close up, and touch Perry's hand."

"Bah!" cried the colonel. "Why did you want to touch Perry's hand?"

"Because I was so lonely and miserable, lying there with my feet sore.

I couldn't sleep, sir. The stones have cut them, and I was afraid to wash them, for fear you should see how white my legs were."

The colonel coughed.

"Here; stop a moment, sir," he said, in rather a different tone. "You see, I might have shot you."

"Yes, sir," said Cyril dolefully. "And it did seem hard to be shot at, because I felt glad the poor fellow didn't go off the bridge."

The colonel coughed again.

"Hum, ha, yes," he said, a little huskily. "It was a very narrow escape, of course, and you behaved very well. You--er--yes, of course, you quite saved his life. But I shall say no more about that now.-- Here, Manning, get Mr Cyril Norton a couple of blankets.--And you'll come and lie down by us, sir; and mind this: no more evasions, no attempts to escape."

"I shan't try to escape in the dark," said Cyril drearily. "Where should I escape to, sir?"

"Ah! of course. Where to, indeed! So recollect you are a prisoner, till I place you back safely in your father's hands.--Stop! Halt! What are you doing, Perry?"

"Only shaking hands with him, father," said the lad.

"Then don't shake hands with him, sir. Shake hands with gentlemen, and not with lads who disgrace themselves by disobeying their father's orders, and satisfying their own selfishness by causing others intense anxiety."

Perry drew in a long, deep breath, which did not go down into his lungs properly, but seemed to catch here and there.

"One moment," said the colonel; "can you make that man Diego understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then tell him and his companion to go to sleep again."

Cyril said a few words to the guide, and the two Indians dropped down at once, close to the warm ashes.

"I suppose, then, he knew all about your escapade, sir, eh?" cried the colonel. "Of course, he must have got you the Indian clothes and paint."

"It was all my fault, sir; don't blame him," said Cyril humbly. "I'm very sorry I did it now. It seemed--"

"Seemed? Well, what did it seem, eh? There, hold your tongue now, and go and lie down by Perry. Recollect you are in an old soldier's camp, and I forbid all talking now. Stop!--er--are you hungry?"

"No, sir; I can't eat," said Cyril bitterly.

"Humph! There, go and lie down, both of you, and get to sleep.--Once more, no talking, Perry; not till to-morrow morning.--Good-night, both of you."

By this time John Manning had taken two soft blankets out of one of the packs, and handed them to the prisoner with a very unmilitary whisper.

"My!" he said, "what a game, Mr Cyril."

But neither of the boys smiled. They lay down in Perry's old place, and Cyril uttered a sigh of content, and then a stifled sob, as he felt Perry's hand seeking for his to hold it tightly.

"Good-night," he whispered, as Perry bent over him, and then there was another whisper.

"Can father send you back, Cil?" and the answer came:

"It's too late now. No."

Just then the colonel lay down again in his old place, and another rustling told that John Manning was curling up in his.

"Good-night, Perry, my boy," said the colonel.

"Good-night, father," replied Perry, and then to himself, "Oh, I hope he'll say good-night to poor old Cil."

He had his wish.

"Good-night, Cyril," came rather huskily.

"Good-night, sir," said the boy, in a voice he could hardly keep steady.

And then came:

"Thank G.o.d I did not hit you when I fired, my lad."

Then there was nothing heard but the whispering of the wind below them among the trees.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE SLIPPERY WAY.

"Awake, Cil?" whispered Perry, just as daylight was making its way down into the depths of the valley, and a faint glow became visible on one of the snow peaks.