"I shall not be lonely," said Tristram, with a glance at the ducks, followed by an upward look of resignation directed at the rows of hams.
It was dark when Captain Salt returned, and found his son on the settle where he had left him. Tristram was not sitting, however, but stretched at length and breathing heavily. At the farther end of the table sat the host and hostess of the inn, engaged in making out the bill.
"One—two—three—six bottles!" exclaimed his father, counting the ruins on the board. "Why, the boy is drunk!"
"No, father," Tristram interrupted, sitting up and rubbing his eyes; "not so much drunk as asleep, and not so much asleep but that I could see the landlord here add three empty bottles to the two I had finished, without counting one that came full to the table and was emptied by him for his supper."
Captain Salt shot a searching glance at the couple, who coloured and seemed confused.
"What is this?" he cried, examining the reckoning. "Two ducks!"
"Ah, I'm afraid it is true that I ate one of the ducks."
"But they were for his Majesty!"
"It appears they were cooked on the chance of pleasing his Majesty, who left, however, without inquiring for them. The landlord and his wife have just eaten the other. Is it time to start?"
"Yes."