Then came the long, hot, weary afternoon, which the two boys started to pass under the boughs of a sturdy tree, both feeling their irritability increase as they listened to the crackling and breaking of wood near at hand, and the murmur of voices from the Indians, who kept on busily with their work.
There was a humming noise in the air, as the insects darted here and there in the hot afternoon sunshine; and from where the two lads lay, they could see the mountains slope down rapidly into the long deep valley, filled now with a soft golden haze, while the air was delicious with the aromatic perfume shed by the trees around.
Cyril felt hot, feverish, and weary still, but at the same time, as he lay there, it seemed as if that valley at his feet was very beautiful with the sun lighting it up from end to end, and that it would be a pity to start that night, before he had had a good restful sleep, and then—directly after it seemed to him—he felt vexed with Perry for worrying and shaking him. The next moment he started up to find that the valley below looked dark, and the sun was on the other side of the mountains, while the colonel was standing over him, smiling.
“That’s better, boys,” he said. “I’m glad that you have both had a good rest. You will be all the fresher for your walk.”
“Then you are going to-night, sir?”
“Hush! Yes; of course.—Perry.”
“Yes, father.”
“Don’t go away, either of you, and you must not look excited. Come and have supper—it is ready—and then wait about by the hut while the guides have theirs. You will take no notice of anything, but loiter about outside while John Manning and I act. But be ready to help, if I call upon you.”
“We’ll do all you wish, sir,” said Cyril excitedly.
“Then do it calmly,” said the colonel. “Mind this, the Indians must not have a suggestion that shall make them suspicious. To them everything must seem as if we were patiently submitting to our rather easy captivity. Come.”