“Don’t be long, my lad,” said the colonel. “I want you to get to bed in good time. You must be up by four.”
“Breakfast will be ready by then,” said Mrs Norton.
“All right, father,” said Perry, and the two lads went out into the soft moonlight, to be accosted directly by John Manning.
“I was looking for you, Master Perry, sir,” he said. “I’ve been a-making of my will, and want you to see me sign it, and witness it.”
“You want to sign your will?” cried Perry, laughing.
“Yes, sir; this here’s going to be my last journey, I’m afraid, for one o’ them mules has marked me down. He means to kick me over the first pressy pass we comes to.”
“Don’t let him,” cried Cyril. “If he’s going to, shove him over instead.”
John Manning stared.
“Thankye, sir, I will. Now, do you know, I never thought o’ that.”
“Come along, Cil,” said Perry, laying his hand upon his companion’s shoulder, and they strolled along to where they could look over the sparkling lights of the town, away across the glittering ocean, with its broad path of silver, and then back up to the huge mountain, whose icy top flashed in the brilliant moonbeams, while every here and there the deep ravines marked the sides with an intense black.