Gully obeyed; and was so careful lest his descent should shake the earth and awake the doctor, that his feet shrank from the concussion. He alighted in a sitting posture, and remained there, looking up at Cashel with a stunned expression.
“Crikey!” he ejaculated, presently. “That was a buster.”
“Get up, I tell you,” said Cashel. “I never saw such a jolly ass as you are. Here, up with you! Have you got your wind back?”
“I should think so. Bet you twopence I’ll be first at the cross roads. I say, let’s pull the bell at the front gate and give an awful yell before we start. They’ll never catch us.”
“Yes,” said Cashel, ironically; “I fancy I see myself doing it, or you either. Now then. One, two, three, and away.”
They ran off together, and reached the cross roads about eight minutes later; Gully completely out of breath, and Cashel nearly so. Here, according to their plan, Gully was to take the north road and run to Scotland, where he felt sure that his uncle’s gamekeeper would hide him. Cashel was to go to sea; where, he argued, he could, if his affairs became desperate, turn pirate, and achieve eminence in that profession by adding a chivalrous humanity to the ruder virtues for which it is already famous.
Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race. Then he said.
“Now, old fellow, we’ve got to separate.”
Gully, thus confronted with the lonely realities of his scheme, did not like the prospect. After a moment’s reflection he exclaimed:
“Damme, old chap, but I’ll come with you. Scotland may go and be hanged.”