CHAPTER XLVII.
STILL WAITING.
Tim O'Rooney and Howard Lawrence, after making their way out of the range of hills to the river-side, where their canoe lay, waited until dark, in accordance with their agreement, before venturing out upon the river. They were quite uneasy, and to prevent their trail revealing them they dropped a few hundred yards down the shore, where they awaited the coming of darkness.
"Worrah! worrah!" said Tim with an immense sigh, "this is a bad day when we came to leave the youngster with the rid gintleman. A fine youngster was the same—bowld and presumin'. It's a qua'ar failin', Masther Howard, that comes to me."
"Yes, I am sad enough, too."
"Ah! but it is not exactly that be the towken of another faaling intirely."
"What is it then?"
"Whin it's yourself that is lost and awandtherin' off by yourself all alone, and nobody with yees, then I thinks it's yees that I loves more nor him that stays with me. But now, whin it's Elwood—God bless him!—that's gone, he's dearer to me than all the rest of the world, not exceptin' yourself. But," and Tim scratched his head in great perplexity, "it's the same that puzzles me sorely. Could yees be afther accounting for it?"
"Elwood and I both know that you think a great deal of us, and no doubt it is because your affection is so equally divided."