"Oh, don't 'Mister' me, as Rob Roy said," cried the Hibernian, in his frank, pleasant tone. "We're sworn brothers in the field; you're Walter, and I Dermot Denis."
When Walter saw the young Irishman again, mounted on his beautiful steed, in the pride of his manly strength, the breeze playing with the golden locks which curled beneath his white helmet-shaped topi* and the picturesque folds of muslin which enwreathed it, again the feeling of admiration came back to the heart of the youth like a tide that had but ebbed for a while. Denis, fearless in heart and buoyant in spirit, appeared again as the preux chevalier, the bravest of the brave.
* A kind of hat specially constructed to protect the bead from the sun.
"Denis talked of the voyage to England, and Walter's heart leaped
at the thought of being 'on the blue waters of the boundless sea.'"
Walter felt leaving his childhood's home, with its dear though mournful recollections, and the native friends who had known him from his birth. With simple affection they crowded around to bid him farewell, and invoke blessings on the missionary's son. It was not till he had left the villagers behind that sadness in Walter's breast gave place to emotions more natural to youth. Then came a rebound from the long depressing influence of sorrow and care—a sense of freedom, a joyousness of hope. Few but have known the keen enjoyment of starting on a journey with a lively, amusing companion, and some have experienced the added zest which a little difficulty or even peril bestows. There are those to whom
"If a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone."
This was eminently the case with the light-hearted Hibernian; and Walter shared the pleasant excitement. Then the future, which had been so dark before, shone out glittering before him like the snow-capped mountains in front. Denis talked of the voyage to England, and Walter's heart leaped at the thought of being, for the first time in his life, "on the blue waters of the boundless sea." He had often longed to hear the dash of the ocean waves, and inhale the briny breezes. England, too, was in prospect. The youth intensely desired to behold the mother-land. He had often pictured to himself the white cliffs of Albion, and awoke with a sigh from' day-dreams of success in a college career. Now things that, not twenty-four hours before, had seemed well-nigh impossible of attainment, appeared to eager hope to have come almost within reach of his grasp.
The grand scenery through which Walter was passing, the lively conversation of Denis when he could sufficiently curb his own patience and that of his horse to accommodate its pace to a walk, combined to make that morning march one of the bright spots in the life of young Gurney. When, on passing the frontier, Denis put spurs to his steed, and waving his right arm, shouted "Afghanistan at last!" his companion caught the infection of his exultation, and nothing for the time seemed more enjoyable than this wild foray into a dangerous land. A noonday halt was needed, both on account of the heat and the weariness of men and beasts. Denis selected a charming spot under the shadow of a high rock for the travellers' bivouac. A sparkling streamlet, dancing over pebbles, supplied the means of both bathing and relieving thirst. The tired mules were unloaded, saddles and bridles were removed from horse and pony; the animals were tethered and allowed to crop the herbage around them, after their thirst had been slaked.