“Thank God I did not hit you when I fired, my lad.”
Then there was nothing heard but the whispering of the wind below them among the trees.
Chapter Seven.
The Slippery Way.
“Awake, Cil?” whispered Perry, just as daylight was making its way down into the depths of the valley, and a faint glow became visible on one of the snow peaks.
“Yes,” was whispered back, “these two hours.”
“Couldn’t you sleep?”
“No; not for thinking. It’s all very well for you, but I’ve got to hear what your father says this morning.”