Gipsy was thankful to get up and dress and find out what was going on, and as soon as possible she ran downstairs and went out to the front of the inn. Her father was just before her, and Cheriton was standing talking to a group of guides and muleteers. He turned round and came up to them saying,—
“I have been making inquiries, and they say that if they kept to their intended route—and I feel sure that they would not change it—there is no reason to fear any dangerous accident such as one hears of on Swiss mountains. And the men all laugh at the notion of any brigandage nowadays. What I think is, that one of them may have got some slight hurt, twisted his foot, for instance, and been unable to get on; and if they don’t turn up in an hour or so I think we ought to go after them.” Cherry looked anxiously at Mr Stanforth as he spoke, as if, having worked up this view for his own benefit, he wanted to see others convinced by it also.
“Yes,” said Mr Stanforth, “I have been thinking of the possibility of strained ankles too.”
“You see,” said Cherry, “they must have left their mules somewhere; at least we shall fall in with them.”
“Ah—ah! they are coming,” cried Gipsy, with a scream of joy, as the sound of hoofs were heard along the street.
Cherry dashed forward, but as the party came into sight he stopped suddenly, then hurried on to meet them; for only Pedro, one of the mule-drivers who had accompanied them, appeared, riding one mule and leading the other.
In the sudden downfall, Gipsy’s very senses seemed to fail her; as she saw Cherry lay his hand on the mule as if to support himself, and look up, unable to frame a question; she could hardly hear the confusion of voices that followed.
Soon, however, she gathered that no terrible news had come—no news at all. Don Alvar and Don Juan had ascended the mountain with their guide José, and had never returned; and, after waiting for their descent in the early morning, Pedro had come back without them. What could have happened? They might have gone a long way round, in fact a three days’ route—there was no other, or they might have fallen from a precipice.
“In short, you know nothing about them. We must go and see,” interrupted Cherry, briefly; “at least, I will. What mules have you? Who is the best guide now in Ronda?”
“My dear boy,” said Mr Stanforth gently and reluctantly, “you must not try the mountain yourself. You know it must be done on foot, and the fatigue—”