“Ourai!” shouted the young Italian, with the best imitation he could give of an English hurrah.
“Then I have frightened myself almost to death for nothing,” cried Brazier. “How dare you pretend that you were shot!”
“I didn’t,” cried Rob angrily, for his smarting head exacerbated his temper. “I never pretended anything. I couldn’t help tumbling. You shouldn’t have fired.”
“There, hold your tongue, Mr Rob, sir. It’s all right, and instead of you and the guv’nor here getting up a row, it strikes me as you ought both to go down on your knees and be very thankful. A few inches more one way or t’other, and this here expedition would have been all over, and us going back as mizzable men as ever stepped.”
The guide’s words were uttered in so solemn and forcible a way that Brazier took a step or two forward and caught his hand, pressing it firmly as he looked him full in the eyes.
Brazier was silent for a few moments, and then, in a voice rendered husky by emotion, he said,—
“You are quite right, Naylor. Thank you, my man, for the lesson. I deserve all you have said, and yet I am thankful at heart for the—”
He did not finish his words, but dropped Shaddy’s hand, and then turned to Rob and laid his hand upon the boy’s shoulder.
“Come to the boat, Rob,” he said. “I’ll sponge and strap up that little cut. Naylor spoke truly. We have much to be thankful for. I ought not to have spoken so harshly to you.”
“Nor I to have been so cross, sir. It was my head hurt me, and made me speak shortly.”