Again at the sound of my laugh she shrunk a little; but presently frowned.
"Have you considered, cavalier," she asked coldly, "that Giuseppe is not certain of recovery?"
"Still less certain is my friend," answered I, and with a shrug of the shoulders walked away to Nat's sick-couch. There, twenty minutes later, my father took leave of me, after giving some last instructions for the care of the invalid. In one hand he carried his musket, in the other his camp-stool.
"Say the word even now, lad," he offered, "and we will abide till he recovers."
But I shook my head.
Billy Priske carried an enormous wine-skin slung across his shoulders; Mr. Fett a sack of provender. Mr. Badcock had begged or borrowed or purchased an enormous gridiron.
"But what is that for? I asked him, as we shook hands.
"For cooking the wild goose," he answered solemnly, "which in these parts, as I am given to understand, is an animal they call the mufflone. He partakes in some degree of the nature of a sheep. He will find me his match, sir."
One by one, a little before the sun sank, they bade me farewell and passed—free men—down the path that dipped into the pine forest. On the edge of the dip each man turned and waved a hand to me. The princess, with Marc'antonio beside her, stood and watched them as they passed out of sight.