“It is so restful here,” she said.
“Persuade her,” he said, turning to Webster.
“I have not the will, even if I had the privilege,” he replied; “she is tired.”
“Come,” said Hume harshly; “this is no time to be nice. We can take no risks, and must reach the shelter.”
She rose up, and disdaining any offer of help, walked on; and so, in silence, they continued until the precipice was reached. Here among some huge boulders they spread their blankets, and in a minute Laura and the two blacks were in deep slumber.
“Sleep, Frank,” said Webster; “you will wear yourself out.”
“So much the better for you,” he said.
“Look here, Frank, you are the leader, and I follow you with my eyes shut; but heavens above, man, my helplessness breeds in me a feeling of desperation, which finds vent now and again in bad humour. You must bear with me.”
“Ay, and what of myself? I have brought you all here, and am answerable for your safety. That is anxiety enough without the additional weight of your ill humour and her dislike.”
“It will be all right when the morning breaks; now sleep, my lad.”