“Can’t say, my boy; but you had better be off home to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” said Joe. “Coming part of the way with me, Gwyn?”
Gwyn glanced at his father before saying yes, for he expected to hear an objection.
But the Colonel’s attention was fixed upon the dog.
“Let him sleep,” he said; “he’ll be all right here till morning.”
“But if he stirs, he may fall off the cistern and hurt himself again, father.”
“No fear, my boy. I don’t suppose he will attempt to move all night. There, off with you, Gwyn, if you are going part of the way.”
The boys followed the Colonel out of the vinery, the door was shut, and the ascending lane leading to the Major’s house was soon reached, and then the rugged down.
“Precious dark,” said Gwyn; but there was no answer. “Sleep, Jolly?” said Gwyn, after a few moments.
“Eh? No; I was thinking. I say, though, how precious dark it is;” for they could not see a dozen yards.