All this was little more than momentary, and the fierce threatening face they had come to encounter was all fancy made; for the Colonel’s looks as he held out his hand was very much the same as when they had dined with him the last time at his hotel, and his salute was just a hearty English:
“Well, boys, how are you? But you two fellows have been making a pretty mess of it over that belt!” And before either of them could reply, he continued, in his short, giving-order style, “Great nuisance and bother to me. I have had quite two months taken up with your affairs, Singh—Dour business, you know—and I shall be very glad when you are old enough to take the reins in your hand and drive yourself.”
“But, guardian—” began Singh, who was breathing more freely, the warm pressure of the Colonel’s hand having thrilled him through and through.
“Oh yes, I know, my boy; I didn’t mean that. I am not going to be pensioned off. I am going to be a sort of House of Lords to you two commoners, and you will come and refer all big matters to me. Let’s see, what was I saying? Oh, I’ve been busy two months over the Dour affairs. Got them pretty straight, and I was going up into Scotland for a month’s rest. I meant to write from there if you had been doing your sums a little better, Glyn, and if you, Singh, had improved a bit in your spelling, for the way in which you break your shins over the big words in your letters is rather startling.”
“Oh, guardian, aren’t you rather too hard?” said the boy appealingly. “But you weren’t only going to write to the Doctor about that?”
“Humph! No. I had some idea about salmon-fishing when the season comes on.”
“Oh, fishing!” cried the boys in a breath.
“Yes,” said the Colonel. “It won’t be like getting up in the hills amongst the mahseer. Bah! Here am I running away about fishing! I caught a forty-pounder last time I tried, and a big fight too. But the Doctor wanted me to come out here about this wretched belt business, and I have had to leave my club and put off my journey to come down and see about this.—It’s a bad business, Glyn. I am afraid you have not been so sharp as you should have been.”
“I have tried my best, father.”
“I suppose so; but the best’s bad.”