"Ah! Don't say that!" he burst out "You have not come all these miles to be turned back by a foot or two of rock. It is absurd! It is worse than absurd. It is cowardly."
"Hush!" I whispered gently. For I could gauge his disappointment, and gauging it, could pardon his railing, "I have no thought of turning back."
"Then what will you do? Morrice, this is no time for dreaming! What will you do?"
"Jack," I said, "you and I must part company. I must win through this trouble by myself."
I heard something like a sob; it was the only answer he made.
"Wait for me by the horses in the wood! Give me till dawn, but not a moment longer! If I am not with you then--well, 'tis the long good-bye betwixt you and me, Jack, and you had best ride for your life."
Again he made no answer. For a moment I fancied that he had stolen away in a fury, and I craned my head over the rock, so that I could look down into the road. He was standing motionless with bent shoulders just beneath me.
"Jack!" I called. For it might well be the last time I should speak to him. We had been good friends, and I would not have him part from me in anger. "There is no other way. It can't be helped."
He turned up his face towards me, but it was too dark for me to read its expression.
"Very well, Morrice," he said, and there was no resentment in his tone. "I will wait for your coming, and God send you come!"